tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85201602638203561402017-08-16T11:54:20.617+12:00Thardrandian ThoughtsAldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.comBlogger475125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-30324077913634213932016-06-20T10:00:00.001+12:002016-06-20T10:19:15.960+12:00Moving HouseAfter being here for a good long time, I've finally up and moved <a href="https://aldreaalien.wordpress.com/">Thardrandian Thoughts to wordpress</a>. I've set up a redirect and all the posts that were on here can be found on&nbsp;wordpress.<br /><br />This, however, is the last post that'll be happening on this site.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-36138444000500263612016-06-19T13:57:00.000+12:002016-06-19T13:57:33.986+12:00Weekend Writing Warriors - #8sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" /></a></div>I'm busy, busy, busy trying to get the fifth&nbsp;chapter of&nbsp;<i>In Pain and Blood</i>&nbsp;ready for the 3rd of July. And there's the re-read of <i>Dark One's Mistress</i> to get through before I can even think about releasing it...<br /><br />So, my fellow&nbsp;<a href="http://www.wewriwa.com/">Weekend Writing Warriors</a>&nbsp;and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/">Snippet Sunday </a><a class="" href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/SnippetSunday/">Folk</a>, here's a piece out of my oldest story. It's been with me for around nineteen years now, and I'm still chugging through the critiques for the second book. I give you...<br /><br /><br /><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Rogue King</span></h2><div style="text-align: center;"><br />--------------------------</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Brief lead up: Veng (Koral) is basically going through withdrawal.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">Veng woke screaming, every muscle twitching in an endless spasm. It arched his back, twisted his limbs. Sweat slicked his skin. He opened his eyes. Light burned its way into his mind. A fresh shriek escaped his parched throat.</span>&nbsp;</span></div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Klara</i>. That single thought broke through the pain. Klara could fix this.</span></span></div></div></div></blockquote><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><i><br /></i><br /><div style="text-align: center;">You can find it on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JO2LRK2">Amazon</a>.</div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxRJRCFJjg4/VLeQNVkRp7I/AAAAAAAACCA/Hm8l_udKC-Y5RbkG4idqhQWzyTPbS5-GwCKgB/s1600/1TRK3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxRJRCFJjg4/VLeQNVkRp7I/AAAAAAAACCA/Hm8l_udKC-Y5RbkG4idqhQWzyTPbS5-GwCKgB/s200/1TRK3.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><b>Outside is dangerous.</b><br /><br />Such is the warning Koral has heard for twelve years. Born a product of genetic manipulation, he knows little else of the world beyond the steel walls of his home.<br />When fate gives him the choice between certain death and the unknown, there's no question in what he must choose. But he's about to find out the sands he must brave are full of more than mere monsters.<br />Providing the desert doesn't kill him first.<br />This is a world ruled by instinct, where innocence is drowned in blood. Here, men are offered up to the great Serpent God,&nbsp;Lorric, only to emerge as the most feared killers on the planet: The Rogues.<br />With the god's sights set on turning Koral into a legend, he must sacrifice himself to survive and be reborn as...&nbsp;<b>The Rogue King</b>.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-195792828307030492016-06-17T23:46:00.000+12:002016-06-17T23:46:42.388+12:00Reaching 75%<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="statistic"></span></div><center><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" width="125" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">I hope.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've said this before, <i>In Pain and Blood</i> won't stop growing. It started off at thirty chapters, then jumped to thirty-five as I outlined it. <i>Then</i>, it cruised it's way through the forties and has parked itself at forty-five chapters.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">For now.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You might have noticed by last Sunday's post that the chapters themselves have been on the not-so-small side. Chapter Four clocks in at close to 5500 words. I've had multiple chapters that skipped over 10k and had to be split because... damn.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All of them add up, which is both cool and infuriating at the same time. I like to know when I'm getting close to a goal. I seem to stick with it better if there's a defined end. That's why I like to set ballpark figures. Chapters have a loose minimum goal. Most of the time, a single scene hits it (or, in the case of Chp 4, beats it to death). Other times, like next month's chapter, there's more than one scene.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Having chapters go wildly outside those goals messes up my system...</div><center><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.critiquecircle.com/wordmeter.asp?col=purple&amp;curr=117091&amp;goal=156000&amp;" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never trust the end goal.</td></tr></tbody></table></div></center></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">You see, when I started, my outline equated to an end goal of 131,000.</div><br />It's now 156,000. I'm 39k from <i>that</i> goal, which leave me at 75% of the way through. That sounds awesome, right? I should have... What? Roughly eight hundred words per chapter left? More than enough to fill my Camp Nanowrimo goal this July without too much strain.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">Ahahaha!<br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">...</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><u>No</u></b></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There's somewhere between 50 and 68k left to go... I think. Yes, my 75% mark jumped ship on me some time back. I've chapters that were considered finished now clamouring for additional material. So they grow. They're all 4 and 5k now.<br /><br />And, recently, I broke one chapter that threatened 7000 words. Thing is, I'd already snapped off what would now be the latter third, which is 4k in its own right. That now makes four chapters covering one day...<br />Which is actually becoming a rather common theme. Even at the start, it takes two chapters to cover a small portion of a night. And, whilst the story keeps within my semi-loose outline, it's also messing with my plans. I once joked with my family that this single book might reach 200k.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Now, I'm rather scared that it will.</div></div></center>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-64775340207466632092016-06-16T14:16:00.000+12:002016-06-16T14:16:00.310+12:00Blog Tour - THE DEEPEST BLACK<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rainyofthedark.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/new-release-rk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.rainyofthedark.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/new-release-rk.jpg" height="147" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;">Today, we're celebrating the release of THE DEEPEST BLACK by USA Today Bestselling author Rainy Kaye. THE DEEPEST BLACK is 99 cents for a limited time! Check it out, then scroll all the way down to&nbsp;</span>enter<span style="text-align: start;">&nbsp;to win a $10 Amazon gift card!</span></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rainyofthedark.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F03%2Fthe_deepest_black.jpg&amp;container=blogger&amp;gadget=a&amp;rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rainyofthedark.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F03%2Fthe_deepest_black.jpg&amp;container=blogger&amp;gadget=a&amp;rewriteMime=image%2F*" /></a></div><strong>Ember has a little problem...fairies want her dead.</strong><br />Ember spends her Friday nights lurking in the bad parts of town, killing fairies. It’s either&nbsp;that,&nbsp;or become a victim to their flesh-eating hunger.<br />Then she meets Remy, a&nbsp;fae&nbsp;who, despite getting on her nerves, isn’t evil. He tells her that a shadow has been consuming his world, changing its inhabitants and letting destructive beasts into his city. He is searching for his brother who went missing during the catastrophe.<br />When a team of mercenaries come for Ember, she has little choice but to join Remy in his quest. Together, they decide to bait a trap. What they find reveals the destruction of the fae world means the end of the human world, too–and it’s Ember’s fault.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Deepest-Black-Rainy-Kaye-ebook/dp/B01D234SI6/"><img border="0" src="https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rainyofthedark.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F01%2Famazon-button-300x145.png&amp;container=blogger&amp;gadget=a&amp;rewriteMime=image%2F*" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: start;"></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rainyofthedark.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F04%2Frk16-300x300.jpg&amp;container=blogger&amp;gadget=a&amp;rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.rainyofthedark.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F04%2Frk16-300x300.jpg&amp;container=blogger&amp;gadget=a&amp;rewriteMime=image%2F*" width="200" /></a></div>Rainy Kaye writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, and her Summoned series was acquired by Bastei Lübbe. In 2014, she reached the USA Today Bestseller list. Today, she's taking care of her small zoo of furry animals and trying to remember where she left her coffee.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center> <a class="rcptr" data-raflid="7854555968" data-template="" data-theme="classic" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/7854555968/" id="rcwidget_kj2dyz5a" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a> <script src="https://widget-prime.rafflecopter.com/launch.js"></script></center>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-68665896039133334882016-06-14T20:00:00.000+12:002016-06-14T23:10:59.315+12:00International Authors' Day Bloghop<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Plx-x8KKRI/U4mTCUBmQyI/AAAAAAAAAxw/fRiHzTpRkLI/s1600/609514_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Plx-x8KKRI/U4mTCUBmQyI/AAAAAAAAAxw/fRiHzTpRkLI/s320/609514_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption">Organised and hosted by <a href="http://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/">b00k r3vi3ws blog</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />If you haven't heard about International Author's Day, it's a day started up by Debdatta at <a href="http://www.b00kr3vi3ws.in/">b00k r3vi3ws</a> to celebrate authors and show our appreciation for all the work they put into books by writing about favourites, or how we got into reading/why you love reading... Whatever!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------</div><br /><br />Anne McCaffrey&nbsp;has been my favourite author for a good long time. I jumped from the multitude of horse novels into the Dragonriders of Pern series and devoured it like one would popcorn: always looking for more to feed the craving even when the tub's empty.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(For the record... yes, I have a thing for popcorn, too. No butter, thanks.)</div><br />Sadly, my newspaper delivering money never quite matched up with my ravenous reading habit and the libraries never seemed to stock more than a few copies.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">(Although, I'm ever so pleased to see that's changed.)</div><br />So, one day, I was strolling along the shelves, looking for something that would fit my desire for... Well, back then, I didn't know about the phrase Science Fantasy or that they would become the stories I adore the most. All I knew was that this story of scientifically&nbsp;created dragons that were used to combat these deadly alien creatures called Thread seemed created just for me.<br /><br />(By this stage, I'd devoured multiple series by David Eddings, K. A. Applegate,&nbsp;Maurice Gee... I could go on. Sometimes, reading them two and three times.)<br /><br />Anyway, there I was, searching along the shelves for my next obsession. Enter Andre Norton with the Witch World Saga...<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1sW5UEyt9tk/Th4zHcFjpeI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3GDf5s3LXfok-xnyAstSio85AUIRalSogCKgB/s1600/gryphon%2527s%2Beyrie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1sW5UEyt9tk/Th4zHcFjpeI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3GDf5s3LXfok-xnyAstSio85AUIRalSogCKgB/s200/gryphon%2527s%2Beyrie.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my actual copy. ^_^</td></tr></tbody></table>OMG! I recall my little teenage mind almost exploding with joy at finding this novel. What book?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/808412.Gryphon_s_Eyrie"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Gryphon's Eyrie</span></b></a></div><br />I read it so many times, not even knowing it was technically the third in a sort of trilogy within the whole series, it mentioned past events, but in a way that let me enjoy the story it was telling now.<br /><br />It follows&nbsp;Kerovan, who is set apart from other men by way of being born with amber cat-like eyes and cloven hooves, he considered it as a curse of being marked as having kinship with the Old Ones, I considered it as awesome. I still do. Come on... Hooves! Think of the fortune you'd save on shoes!<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dbm3OS5re8A/Th41oNPe92I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/IWdLFRYKWxgSsIHvUfYlQUOpJr9hpCmkACKgB/s1600/crystal%2Bgryphon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dbm3OS5re8A/Th41oNPe92I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/IWdLFRYKWxgSsIHvUfYlQUOpJr9hpCmkACKgB/s200/crystal%2Bgryphon.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the tanks!</td></tr></tbody></table>And there was his wife, Joisan, who was one hell of a character. Despite being less powerful than her hubby, she was better at facing down her enemies, probably due to being the one who saw her power as a tool and actually used it. She got pregnant in this one, too, and still kicked major butt. My kind of woman, really.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">In short, it was everything I'd been searching for.</div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div>I tried so hard to find the other novels, to find out the whole story, but it's only been recently that I was able to complete the trilogy. I'm still working on owning the entire Witch World Saga (just a handful left now).<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>What was that one book that just blew your mind?</b></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-4569225648756844422016-06-12T21:00:00.000+12:002016-06-12T21:00:00.160+12:00In Pain and Blood - Chapter Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BjmkA4aKFOo/VyWeXPcuwUI/AAAAAAAACno/0xhlz3mf-mcTOoJ20HimfJwocxT_WysYQCLcB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BjmkA4aKFOo/VyWeXPcuwUI/AAAAAAAACno/0xhlz3mf-mcTOoJ20HimfJwocxT_WysYQCLcB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp4.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>Omg!&nbsp;<a href="http://thardrandia.blogspot.com/2016/05/in-pain-and-blood-chapter-three.html">Chapter three</a> was sooo long, yet took such a short time to write. And it's not the biggest. Oh no, that title goes to today's chapter... Until some of the Patreon-only chapters are published, at least.<br /><br />So... last month, we left Dylan on the morning of the brawl... I hate myself so much for the large-scale fight scenes this story demands of me. <i>So very&nbsp;</i>much.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>*ahem*</i><br /><i><br /></i></div>If you want to read the story in a little friendlier format, you can find all chapters on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wattpad.com/story/43770351-in-pain-and-blood" target="_blank">Wattpad</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://www.inkitt.com/stories/60090" target="_blank">Inkitt</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------------------------</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Chapter Four<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Even at its darkest, the hallway leading to the duelling arena had never seemed this ominous. Dylan marched along its dismal barren length, hemmed in by twenty others like they were guards leading him to the slaughter, his stomach bubbling with more than what mere nerves could account for.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">This could very well be the last day he was able to choose when he used magic. Leashing took place immediately after the brawls and the victor was taken from the tower the next morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Before now, he would've considered the thought with jubilation. Was this not what he wanted? To show his power made him an asset to the kingdom rather than a liability? And yet, the thought of his friends, the men and women as dear to him as any sibling could be, struck him cold. Winning would mean never seeing them again. Not even for the chance to say goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was not the time for second thoughts. If he won, then he would be part of the defence standing between his friends and the brutish might of the Udynean Empire. He would make that count.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan peered at the men and women around him, trying to recognise faces and determine their weaknesses. To his left marched Sophie, reputedly one to prefer fire over other attacks. She'd tied back her pale yellow hair since this morning, making her naturally cold face even more hostile, but it was definitely her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The person ahead of her with a frizzy mop of dirty-blond hair had a memorable air about him. Dylan couldn't make out a face, but it had to be Fredrick. The man was more swift than strong, able to counter quicker than most, but if he truly was less-than-serious about the brawl, then he'd go down before the last of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Some of the others, they seemed familiar, in a distant sort of way. A few eyed him in turn. He hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink his height and look less threatening. Although he had the advantage of them not witnessing his technique whilst in the bouts, the same reason wasn't in his favour. He could very well wind up having to make a split second decision that could cost him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">If he failed now, what would his guardian do to keep him from trying the next time? What if there wasn't a next time? What if the army pushed Udynea back and spellsters were no longer needed to bolster their ranks?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They stepped through the archway. No one had tried to mend the area since Mary's miscalculation. Strange how he couldn't recall the scorch marks and tiny hollows littering the floor. His gaze swung to the targeting blocks. One still stood where he'd pushed it against the arena's shield, its face cracked and charred.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The doors swung shut as the last of them entered. As one, the group ventured into the centre of the arena. All around them, amongst the narrow rows of seating, both spellster and servant alike jockeyed for a prime position to watch them battle each other for the chance to defend the border from Udynea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Already, the overseers stood on their podium, waiting with that same unbending calmness they always showed the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan searched the throng. Somewhere in that mass of spectators were his friends. His gaze skimmed the lower row, where several adolescents sat alongside their guardians. Not as many as when he'd once sat there. Only those in their mid-teens who displayed the strength and discipline worthy of eventually trying for this honour were allowed to watch at such a young age. A few bore the awed expression that spoke of seeing this place for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">There</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"> were his friends, standing on the third row up, Nestria and Henrie waving like made, whilst Sulin and Launtil struggled to stay in place. He held up his hand to let them know their antics had been spotted. Nestria jumped up and down. She increased her mad waving and pointed at her other hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He peered at her, just making out how the elf held up two fingers. Smothering a smile, he gave a vigorous nod. <i>Two minutes, got it</i>. Even if he wound up being bested, the least he could do was ensure she kept Sulin's promised bottle of not-yet-brewed alcohol.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His focus returned to the overseers. <i>Why are they taking so long?</i> He'd witnessed plenty of brawls since Tricia first escorted him to his seat fifteen years ago, one of the overseers should've given the signal to spread out by now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The doors reopened to admit two other women and silence fell across the arena. One of them was clothed in a dark green robe similar to those he'd seen on past leashed spellsters, whilst the other woman was covered from the neck down in a black attire very different to the guardians. They had to be the leashed one and her—<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"A hound?" one of the men, a brown-haired human with the most amazing green eyes Dylan had ever seen, &nbsp;muttered to his comrades as the mysterious pair marched to the other end of the arena. "I thought they weren't allowed to come here?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan gave the darkly-clad woman a fresh look. She held herself with a grace he'd not seen in the armed guardians. It was possible she was one of the King's Hounds. He didn't see any reason to be jittery about it. True, such people were trained at young age to hunt down rogue spellsters and bring them to the tower, but they already stood in its heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Maybe she's just dressed as one?" a woman suggested to the man.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Are you mad?" Sophie snapped. She turned on the woman, the tail of her long hair lashing the air. "Do you know of anyone who dared to mock the hounds by wearing their armour? Of course not, because they're all dead." She sneered at the woman. "That there is the real thing."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I've heard they drink the blood of every spellster they capture," one of the other dark-haired men said. "That's why they're so good at finding the runaways."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan rolled his eyes. His healing tutors once explained how magic couldn't possibly be absorbed through such absurd means. He couldn't believe such rumours still circulated the tower.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Green-eyes nudged the rumour-spreading man into silence. He jerked his chin towards the podium. The hound and the leashed woman had reached the base.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The arena fell silent as one of the overseers raised a brass funnel to her lips. "I'm sure none of you need to be reminded of the rules," she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Although Dylan had never competed in the bouts, let alone the final brawl, he'd made a point of memorising the rules.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Non-lethal attacks only</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. No point in letting even the victor wipe out what could potentially become a comrade after the next brawl. Of course, <i>lethal</i>had a rather wide definition, what with the tower's master healers scattered near the edge of the arena and prepared to attend to the fallen. It didn't necessarily negate the chance of being burnt, electrocuted or even suffering asphyxiation.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His gaze dropped from the overseer to the two women at the other end of the arena. <i>Last one standing faces the leashed one</i>. It was more a formality by then, but the final test was necessitated in the off chance that the victor got there by luck. It'd never happened in the whole time he'd watched the brawls, but the tower operated under the assumption that there was a first time for everything. After all, no one had attempted crafting a shield from <i>infitialis</i> before Mary. And no one was likely to be given sanction to try again.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Take your places," the overseer ordered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Their group swiftly disbanded, spreading out in precise steps. Each contestant's space would've been assigned by the overseers during the bouts. Dylan scanned their progress, seeking a place where he could insert himself. <i>There</i>. Right between Sophie and Green-eyes. <i>Perfect</i>. Was it two minutes Nestria had asked of him? He might just be able to do that after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sophie glared at him as he took up position. She drew her hand across her throat in a swift cutting gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He smiled back. If Nestria was right about the woman, then her attacks should be easy to shrug off. Shielding against fire was one of the first spells they taught them, which made her choice of attack all the more ridiculous. Small wonder Sophie had failed in the brawl so many times.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Instead, he busied himself with rolling up the sleeves of his robe. The others wore the garments their guardians would've gifted them at the beginning of the bouts; brown robes made from a less flammable fabric and cut in a style more suited to battle with closefitting sleeves. No one seemed to have the forethought to dress him a similar garb, most likely because of his late addition. It was of little consequence. He would've eagerly fought in his smallclothes for this opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Begin!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The burst of unfettered magic crackled through the arena. Blasts of lightning and fire singed the air, testing defences. Dylan threw up a heavy shield and tucked its focus into the back of his mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Heat blazed across his right flank. <i>Sophie</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She stood there, outlined in flames. A child's trick that might intimidate the average magic-fearing soldier on the field, but otherwise unimpressive. Smoke poured from the flames, dark and thick. That was slightly more striking. He'd never been able to get magic-fuelled fire to smoke quite so densely.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sneering, she threw another fireball at him. It struck his shield and sputtered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He frowned upon seeing the fury on her face. Although they'd never fought, the woman couldn't be foolish enough to believe she'd enough raw strength to break his shield. He had rather expected more from her by now; no one got into the brawl without knowing more than basic battle tactics.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Again, she attacked. This time, he flinched. His shield stopped all but air from passing through and Sophie was busily heating the air around him to an intolerable temperature. She was trying to steam him out of his shell rather like a mussel. <i>Clever</i>. He could use such a technique to his advantage.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan waited for her to fling another blast before switching the focus of his shield to encapsulate her. Two semicircles shimmered in the air either side of the woman and, before she could register the danger, he slammed them together with Sophie in the middle.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Inside the bubble, his opponent raged. She threw small balls of fire all around her, trying to break the shield. When that didn't work, the woman resorting to hitting the sphere with fist and foot.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan waited. The balance between making the shield dense enough to hold against her barrage whilst remaining that little bit porous to let her breathe required much of his focus, but it would limit the damage the woman made. Provided she was smart enough to extinguish the flames outlining her body before the bubble filled with the smoke. He eyed the already dark air surrounding the woman. Hopefully, the realisation would come soon, he'd no desire to suffocate her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sudden, close movement on his left whipped his head around in time to spy an object flying his way. Another shield, thin and crude, came up more through instinct than command. It trapped the projectile mere inches from his chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan stared at the shimmering tip of the conjured spear, his heart hammering. <i>So much for non-lethal weapons</i>. He turned aside and let the spear continue its now harmless passage to the ground. His gaze swung in the direction it had come from. Green-eyes. Dylan shook his head, bitterly chastising himself. He should've predicted someone would attempt to take advantage of his lack of focus whilst he dealt with another. <i>Sloppy</i>. If he was going to win this, he had to be careful.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He thrust his hand towards the man. Lightning shot from his fingers, strong enough to stun without killing. It was a fine distinction. One that his opponents should all know by now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Green-eyes tried to shield himself. He wasn't fast enough. The lightning hit and the man fell, jerking on the ground. His senses would likely be scrambled for a few days, but the healers would ensure no lasting damage.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Satisfied his attacker wouldn't get back up, Dylan turned back to finish dealing with Sophie.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The shield he'd placed around the woman still held and was full of black smoke. All he could make out of the woman were her hands weakly hammering against the bottom curve of the ball.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan banished the barrier trapping her. The smoke dissipated, revealing Sophie's gasping form. He sent a blast of air in her direction, shoving her against the arena's shield where the healers could easily focus their talents and help clear her lungs of the smoke.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He turned to survey the others, using this brief pause to take in weaknesses. For the most part, they were attacking one-on-one. That was how every other brawl he'd ever watched always started. Grudges could come to a head during the bouts and this was the perfect opportunity to hit hard at a foe without lasting damage.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His gaze slid over those left standing. Some would come for him. Who, he wasn't yet sure. Dylan absently reformed his shield whilst evaluating those closer. Five possibilities. Far too many combinations to account for in so short a time. <i>This is going to get messy</i>. But that was the point. Those fighting in a proper battle didn't attack in orderly bouts. Brawls were meant to test them on how they'd handle such a scenario.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Frowning, he adjusted the strength of his shield, favouring no point over another. It left him with an overall mediocre defence and demanded a portion of his concentration, but with the uncertainty of who would strike and where, he needed something that would shift on instinct.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">As one, the others straightened. Shields shimmered as they eyed each other, waiting for someone else to strike first, for a weakness to present itself. Dylan joined them, conserving his strength. Then slowly, one by one, their heads all turned towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Shit</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. Of course they'd turn on him, he was the late addition. If Sophie's feelings on his inclusion were an indication of how the others felt, then they saw him as the special one whom the overseers decided didn't need to fight in the bouts to prove himself. That joining so late hadn't been his idea was a moot point.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He took in his opponents' positions. One on either flank, three spread out along the fore. As long as they remained were they stood, he'd the strength to repel an attack. "<i>Well?</i>" he roared. "Come on, then!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A bevy of fire, ice and lightning filled the air.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He hardened his shield and waited out the assault. Ice melted in the heat of another's fireball, which likewise fizzled out. Steam billowed between him and his attackers. Only the lightning touched his shield, yet the combined charge of dissipating magic turned what should've been a heavy jolt into a measly tickle.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan grinned as the steam evaporated. "Is that the best you've got?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Shards of ice exploded across his shield.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman on his left shrieked and fell. Out the corner of his eye, he saw red staining the ground. A quick glance revealed several of the shards had hit her body. He took a step towards her, obeying the urge to check she was still alive, before common sense rooted him in place.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">But there was blood. There shouldn't be blood. <i>It's a non-lethal attack</i>. At least, providing any major blood vessels weren't hit. The healers wouldn't be able to reach this far into the arena. She could bleed to death before the brawl was over.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He sent a pulse through the air, knocking the four left in range off their feet, and ran for the woman. The shards were melting, tipping over and diluting the blood pooling on the dirt. Widening his shield to accommodate them both, Dylan knelt and grasped her shoulder. He wasn't a master at healing, but he could give her a chance to reach someone who was.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The shards had punctured a lung. There wasn't much he could do about the blood already clotting within. He focused, coaxing the body's natural ability to speed up. It responded, sluggishly. <i>Come on</i>. Dylan poured more magic into the act, forcing her body to mend itself. Still, the desired reaction was slow. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He pushed that little bit harder. His chest tightened, his own power fighting against his wishes. His heart felt ready to rip through his ribs. It shouldn't have been this difficult. Was he already too late, then? He'd never tried to heal someone this badly injured. How long did it take for a person to bleed out? The shards hadn't hit any major arteries, she should've been able to survive a few…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A wheezy gasp shattered his thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Relief washed through his limbs. She was alive. Her body was still in need of proper healing, but now she stable enough for him to send her to them. "I'm sorry about this." He gently slipped a cushion of air beneath her and pushed her across the ground, halting her body before she hit the arena shield.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan watched as the healers huddled around her. She would live, no question. If the best of them truly could bring the recently dead back to life, then she'd be no great challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Light danced on the edge of his vision. He turned his head to the sight of another falling. Sighing, he wobbled to his feet. They'd actually gone back to fighting whilst he healed the woman. Would it be too much to hope they managed to strike down the man responsible for her injuries? <i>They're meant to stick to the</i>—<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The victor turned, fire roaring from her fingers. Dylan strengthened the flank of his shield.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Too late.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Flames flashed through his weakened barrier, licking at his forearm. A scream tore through his throat. The smoky, sickly-sweet stench of cooking flesh filled his nose just as completely as the searing pain eclipsed his mind. He doubled over, cradling his arm. Already, his magic was working to mend the charred flesh, but it was slow and draining. <i>Get up!</i> He had to retaliate, knock them out before more joined in.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Another blast. Mercifully, his shield still held. The seemingly inadequate protection wobbled at first, regaining its strength as he turned his full attention to keeping his attackers at bay. Three remained of their little group. They spread out, slowly as if trying to hide their attempt at flanking him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His gaze slid over two of them to settle on the third. The man responsible for the ice blast.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Snarling, he unleashed a barrage of lightning at the trio. The bolts arced across the arena, crackling against shields, seeking out the weak points. They fell, limbs flopping about like fish. He'd probably hit them with too many voltages. He didn't care. Non-lethal attacks were apparently off the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A dull sting still encompassed his arm, grounding him. His gaze drifted to where another pair fought amongst themselves. A dark-haired woman and Fredrick, the latter of whom seemed to be having some difficulty getting past the other's shield. A quick look around the arena revealed them to be all that was left of the brawl.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan circled the pair, watching them dance around like two butterflies. He could take out Fredrick easily enough whilst the man was distracted, but then he could very well be leaving himself open to the woman's attack if he wasn't careful. Whereas, if Launtil had been correct about the man's intentions to remain in the tower, Fredrick would concede without too much of a toll on Dylan's reserves.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He sent a bolt of lightning at the woman's flank, strong enough to draw her attention and no more. If he was going to last against the leashed one, he'd need all the strength he had left to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She responded with a fireball. It was a small and sputtering thing, dying before it had a chance to connect with his shield. The woman needed to take a little more from her defence before she'd have any chance of hurting either of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan flung his own fireball through the air, arcing it to hit on the far side of her shield. She flinched from the heat, but no more. Could she read his desire to conserve his strength? How much had she seen of his battle with the others? This fight could draw out longer than he desired if she chose to wait them out.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"What's the matter, Trins?" Fredrick yelled. "Scared he might actually be stronger than you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan reassessed their opponent, scarcely believing this severe-looking person was Trinsuti. It'd been years since he last saw the bubbly woman who once frequented the tower's grand library. However, with her dark hair secured in a high bun, the barely pointed ears were in clear sight. Smaller than the average elf's and usually lost amongst the curls that encircled her head like a halo.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"You can't hide forever," Fredrick continued, slowly drawing closer to the woman. "Come out and play!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Trinsuti's gaze flicked between them, a sneer played on her lips. She stepped back, keeping a definite distance between her and the man. "Actually, I'd rather watch you two fight it out. You like getting nice and close to your opponents, don't you, Fred? Tall, pale and scrawny <i>is</i> your type, right?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Frowning, he turned to Fredrick. The man spread his hands wide, palms up, shoulders hunching in question. He'd made no attempt, not even a hint, to attack Dylan. Still, he eyed the man as Fredrick crept closer to Trinsuti. The steadily growing heat of a fireball encompassed Dylan's hand, ready to unleash the second he saw anything that could be construed as aggression towards him. What sort of attack did Fredrick use that required the man to get close to his target, anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The shimmer of the woman's shield caught his eye. She was adjusting its strength. Sloppily.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan didn't dare to wait and see what Trinsuti planned. He hurled the fireball, realising only as the heat slipped from his fingers that Fredrick was in the direct path. <i>He'll have a shield up</i>. Only a complete idiot didn't maintain even a weak barrier during the brawl.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Fredrick twisted, ducked out of the way and, as Dylan's fireball soared past him, flung his own burst of flames at the woman. Dylan's hit first, the thrum of the woman's shield failing rumbled across the arena, leaving her defenceless for Fredrick's attack.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Trinsuti screamed as the fire hit. She staggered back, battering at the flames that'd caught on her robe hem. They dissipated swiftly, leaving her seeming unscathed. The fresh shimmer of a newly-form shield sprang up around her. But not quickly enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan wasn't certain how Fredrick had made it to the woman's side in such a short amount of time, but he'd managed to sneak behind her before the shield appeared. The man did naught but touch her head and Trinsuti collapsed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">With one blast, Dylan sent the woman skittering towards the arena edge. Now there was but one last opponent to take care of before he needed to face the leashed one. Just one person standing between him and at last being able to leave the tower. He faced Fredrick, not certain whether or not he should believe Launtil.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The man smirked. "So, I see you're finally joining the rest of us in competing."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan spread his hand, allowing the lightning to crackle between his fingers. Bolts danced across his skin, raising the hairs along his arms. "A little elf tells me you're not looking to leave the tower."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Fredrick shrugged. "My guardian makes me compete every year, anyway. Jace made a bet that I'd reach the brawl and…"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">You had to prove him right</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. So that's what Launtil meant by showing off. "On your left." He swiped a tendril of lightning across the gap between them, deliberately aiming for where the man wouldn't be.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sure enough, Fredrick dove out of the way. He tumbled across the arena and bounced back onto his feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan took a moment to appreciate the graceful ease in which the man moved. Whilst they were similar in height, he'd never been that elegant in his adolescence and the sedentary life of a linguist had only made it worse. "So, how do you want to do this?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The man's gaze darted to Dylan's arm. "I've never been fond of electrocution; leaves a metallic taste in the back of the mouth."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"That's a shame." He was fond of lightning for its quickness and efficiency. Unlike fire, which was laughably easy to manipulate, learning to master a single bolt took patience and months of training. But with the right amount of control, that very same bolt could deliver pleasure just as well as deadly pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Take me out another way." Those brown eyes flicked back up to Dylan's face. "Please."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He tipped his head in acquiescence and let the bolts dancing up his hand fade. He'd have to hit the man hard for anything to be believable, but there were a multitude of ways to make that work. "Come at me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Fredrick halted in his circling. Those light brown brows lowered, suspicion etching itself onto his face. He ran at Dylan, the barely perceivable outline of a sword forming in his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan sent a blast of sudden wind at the man.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His opponent hit the arena shield with a sick crunch. He winced and watched, his heart pounding ever harder with each second, as several of the master healers rush to the man's aid. All around him, the arena roared. It was only when Fredrick sat up, seemingly dazed but none the worse for wear, did Dylan realise he'd been holding his breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Winner," the overseer boomed. "Face your final test."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan turned towards the podium. Realisation of the fervour behind the crowd's excitement slowly sunk in. The sick pounding in his chest increased. This was it. He'd gotten through to the end. All there was left to fight was… <i>The leashed one</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She still stood at the podium base beside the hound, the latter speaking with the former. No doubt giving her sanction to attack him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He eyed his opponent as she strode into the centre of the arena, taking in her every move in some vain attempt to determine a weakness from the very way she breathed. Uncertainty burrowed through his stomach as she neared. Could he best a woman who'd faced the Udynean Empire's soldiers and lived? Surely, she would've picked up techniques he'd never seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan shook his hands, flexing his fingers. His breath came raggedly, drying his mouth. Being defeated by her would only matter if he fell too soon. Survive long enough and he'd leave the tower no matter what.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They circled each other, the shimmer of their shields trembling with each step. Pride demanded he strike first. Tactics and encroaching exhaustion suggested he wait, conserve his strength and see what tricks she possessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Attack already!" cried someone in the crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A fireball, as round as he was tall, streaked towards him. He swung out of the way, flinching from the crackling heat of its passage. The gasping shock of the crowd echoed through the arena. Clearly, the woman had forgotten the non-lethal stance on these fights. <i>If that's the way you want to play it</i>. This was the time to show everyone precisely what he was capable of. He unleashed a single bolt of lightning, putting all his strength behind the blast.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman held out her hand and he watched, stunned, as the bolt's passage slowed. Even as he severed the blast from his power, the lightning twisted in the air, curving back on itself. She flung up her other hand and, with a flick of her wrist, sent his own magic towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan strengthened his shield, gritting his teeth as the lightning struck. <i>Well, that's new</i>. Miniscule tendrils broke through the cracks forming in the barrier. They fired around him, nipping at his body and bringing him to his knees. Swearing softly through his teeth, he shook himself. His magic worked to repair the damage even as the lightning hit, but it didn't keep it from stinging.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Fireballs struck the ground around him. Dylan swiftly strengthened his shield, hoping to ride out the barrage. He could surrender now and still be considered worthy, but a small part of him refused to fall that easily. He could win, so long as he could make this quick. <i>Like last night</i>. This wasn't like the exploding <i>infitialis</i>, he couldn't rely on her destroying herself, but he sensed the limit to his magic creeping up on him. He hadn't fought this long in years. If he faltered now, before she was down for good, it was at all possible he might not be capable of shielding her next attack.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He sunk to his knees and focused on the earth beneath his opponent's feet. It'd been years since he'd dared to attempt this manoeuvre. Tricia had banned him from training for a month the first time he showed it to her, but his guardian could hardly punish him now. From the moment he was declared the winner, he no longer had a guardian.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">With one hand digging into the dirt, he set off the first in a long chain of pulses through the ground. The vibrations started slow, building on top of each other with every burst until the ground around him undulated.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman staggered back, her arms waving in a desperate attempt to keep her balance. It was the sign he'd been waiting for. Dylan sent another pulse her way, this time through the air.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His opponent hit the dirt. Another swipe sent her tumbling across the ground and slamming into the arena shield. There he held her, contained much like he'd done to Sophie. Only this time, he ensured the shield was hard enough to let nothing through. All he had to do was hold it long enough for her to pass out and he would win.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">To his surprise, she got to her feet, albeit slowly. Her head swung this way and that, taking in what he had done. The faintest shimmer of her own shield formed inside his and, opening her arms wide, she pushed back.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The unexpected internal pressure slapped him across the face. The shield cracked. Dylan clutched at his head. If she pushed much harder, his skull might very well follow suit. Nevertheless, he tightened his hold, restricting what little space he'd given her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She floundered, her mouth opening and closing like a small bird trying to swallow a wood roach. The woman pounded on the shield just as Sophie had done, using everything she had to break it, but each thump grew weaker.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"The winner is declared fit for war," a voice boomed through the arena. "Spellster, release your opponent."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan glanced up. Their fight had taken him right across the arena to the foot of the podium. The overseers stood on the edge, all eyes trained on him and the leashed one. How long had they watched him slowly suffocating the woman?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I said, release!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Bowing his head, he did as commanded, although the shield was slow to dissipate. The sudden cessation of magic snapped through his body. His legs folded, dumping him unceremoniously to the ground. He knelt there, entirely uncaring to the cheers of those watching. Every bone in his body seemed to be made of lodestone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman fell to the ground, unconscious but most certainly alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Movement nearby drew his eye. He lifted his head cautiously. Whatever it was, he couldn't pose any threat to it. He was rather done for now. Would be incapable of anything beyond a few child's tricks until tomorrow and only after a decent night's rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The hound was at the leashed one's side. She knelt, checking for vitals despite the steady rise and fall of the woman's chest. The hound glanced up from her charge. There was a predatory look in her eyes, one that could almost be mistaken for curiosity. "Congratulations on joining the army ranks, spellster."<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan frowned. Perhaps it was Sulin's doubts or his guardian's insistence in him remaining, or even the rolling tone of the woman's voice, but the hound's words sounded rather like she was in on a cruel joke that he'd somehow become the butt of.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div><br /></div><div><u><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"><br /></span></u></div><div><div style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;">--------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"></span><br /></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman';"></div><div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 48px;"><br /></div>I think I had these two songs on repeat so many times whilst I wrote this.<br />Talk about a variation...</div><div><br /><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="80" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify%3Atrack%3A2rm72l5pjfby1cWvPMUojI" width="80"></iframe><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="80" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify%3Atrack%3A4rsGb4o15k3iUqfvOnoM9g" width="80"></iframe></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"></div></div></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-83577967008836053382016-06-12T11:12:00.000+12:002016-06-12T23:57:02.150+12:00Weekend Writing Warriors - #8sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" /></a></div>Because the fourth chapter of&nbsp;<i>In Pain and Blood</i>&nbsp;will also be here today, I'm taking a break from posting its excerpts this week. If you're at all curious what happened after the attack, there are 5000+ words coming on the subject.<br /><br />Instead, my fellow&nbsp;<a href="http://www.wewriwa.com/">Weekend Writing Warriors</a>, I'll be&nbsp;taking a piece out of an altogether different book...<br /><br /><br /><br /><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Golden Dawn</span></h2><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><br />Quick lead up: This is a dream/flashback where Herald's twin, Harbinger, has just been made into a strigoi and is now being dragged into the sunlight by some villagers.<br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;"><i>Harbinger could not regain the ground they'd lost. Like himself, his brother fought to clasp hands. Sweat glistened off a face that agony had twisted into a sick parody of itself. Their fingers briefly touched, missed, and touched again. Then…</i></span>&nbsp;</div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><i style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot;, serif; text-indent: 36pt;">Dust.</i>&nbsp;</div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;"><i>For one pure moment, his brother stood before him, brownish-grey ash replacing pallid flesh. Then a gentle breeze blew across the entrance, scattering the frail image over the men sprawled on the ground. All that was left of his brother were the clothes smouldering on the dirt</i></span><i style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot;, serif; text-indent: 36pt;">.</i></div></div></div></blockquote><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><i><br /></i><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Want to read more? You can find it on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BWCL4FE">Amazon</a>.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free via Kindle Unlimited.</div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYxumUNB80U/VrrOhvPGIjI/AAAAAAAACfg/8q_rl6OdsfEs_9h3DTdxe-IFdFJFY1jhgCKgB/s1600/golden%2Bdawn%2Bsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYxumUNB80U/VrrOhvPGIjI/AAAAAAAACfg/8q_rl6OdsfEs_9h3DTdxe-IFdFJFY1jhgCKgB/s320/golden%2Bdawn%2Bsmall.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><i><b>Family and blood. </b><br /><br />After 1100 years, these simple words mean everything to Herald. His life has been ruled by keeping his siblings safe, keeping them from becoming prey whilst feeding on the weaker. His failures have been many and measured by those he has lost. People like his twin brother. <br />There has always been another enemy. <br />Just who the enemy is comes into question when Herald meets the dangerous, angelic creature he is to guard. Wondering where his true loyalties lie is a dangerous thought. No matter whether he chooses family over the heart, it will mean death. <br />Only the right choice will ensure the life taken is not his.</i>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-38848696249304937222016-06-08T10:00:00.000+12:002016-06-08T18:44:26.132+12:00Sop and CheeseThe longer I linger beside the characters of In Pain and Blood, the more I find my perception of them changing.<br /><br />Except for the epilogue, everything is filtered through Dylan's PoV, how he feels about the world and those within it. But, no matter how things change, there's one constant... How much of a romantic one particular character is.<br /><br />If they were to be pigeon-holed, they'd be the flirty lovable rogue sort. That's not all there is to them, obviously, but that's the base from which everything grew. The abusive childhood, the loss of lovers, the training to harden his heart, the skewed humour... and the romantic streak a mile wide.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">They're the ones responsible for stuff like the middle portion of this...<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/39/29/35/392935b93ddedaecca44346431db9fbf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/39/29/35/392935b93ddedaecca44346431db9fbf.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In his defence, the guy <i>is </i>just wearing underwear and a flower crown.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />And also this...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/20/61/74/20617465d14416281cbd474f51d09c22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/20/61/74/20617465d14416281cbd474f51d09c22.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So cheesy. Much soppiness.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I've actually re-written chapter forty (a chapter I consider as <u>done</u>) <i>several </i>times because the words they want to say keep changing. And, of course, the damn thing grows with every pass.</div></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Have you ever been embarrassed by a character's actions/words?</b></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-71064285246185724612016-06-07T14:45:00.000+12:002016-06-07T15:51:36.029+12:00Realising Just How Much There is To DoI know I've quite a number of stories waiting for me to write them, but I never realised just how many until I lined up all the ones that have a cover (or long-standing mock covers in TRKS' case)...<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4XTYjzYhp3Q/V1YzVSWF7iI/AAAAAAAACuU/07CCP-RNDGsNUL3elaLCWstGTFaMgnxlgCLcB/s1600/bannerall2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4XTYjzYhp3Q/V1YzVSWF7iI/AAAAAAAACuU/07CCP-RNDGsNUL3elaLCWstGTFaMgnxlgCLcB/s400/bannerall2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many unrevealed covers...</td></tr></tbody></table>And it's not including <i>Dragon</i>, <i class="">Aelfah</i>, <i>Anubis' Handmaiden</i>, the entire&nbsp;<i>Godless Series</i>&nbsp;or the novellas. That's seven, possibly eight, more full-length novels and two definite novellas.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">No wonder I feel so busy at times.</div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-1462807847977747472016-06-05T20:00:00.000+12:002016-06-05T20:00:05.532+12:00Cover Reveal - Midnight Sky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5jSycShZGQc/V1Gcwgpe3XI/AAAAAAAAGU8/5ztNHDrY48oHZAiailS5EDolLyaScB16ACLcB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Bamy%2Bbraun%2Bcover%2Breveal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="106" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5jSycShZGQc/V1Gcwgpe3XI/AAAAAAAAGU8/5ztNHDrY48oHZAiailS5EDolLyaScB16ACLcB/s320/midnight%2Bsky%2Bamy%2Bbraun%2Bcover%2Breveal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Midnight Sky (Dark Sky, Book 2)<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amy Braun<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Coming August 2nd<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f4e79; font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">We are delighted to reveal the cover for Midnight Sky (Dark Sky, Book 2) by Amy Braun.&nbsp;<o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35T-YsXYx1A/V1Gc5h4jhLI/AAAAAAAAGVE/IJI049O4IOIfBzRIohO0QDBTHJAfroTXQCLcB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Baugust%2B2%2Bbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-35T-YsXYx1A/V1Gc5h4jhLI/AAAAAAAAGVE/IJI049O4IOIfBzRIohO0QDBTHJAfroTXQCLcB/s320/midnight%2Bsky%2Baugust%2B2%2Bbanner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Be sure to pre-order your copy today!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Midnight-Sky-Dark-Book-ebook/dp/B01GBIB490?ie=UTF8&amp;keywords=amy%20braun&amp;qid=1464963560&amp;ref_=sr_1_7&amp;sr=8-7">Amazon</a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2mAHbfYI5eA/V1GdGyv584I/AAAAAAAAGVU/ZiLRW8FxBPUklMdli9H0iKLTpcyVWTPgQCLcB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Babout%2Bthe%2Bbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="66" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2mAHbfYI5eA/V1GdGyv584I/AAAAAAAAGVU/ZiLRW8FxBPUklMdli9H0iKLTpcyVWTPgQCLcB/s200/midnight%2Bsky%2Babout%2Bthe%2Bbook.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qJ-uH_CXFIY/V1GdHAyc0eI/AAAAAAAAGVc/YUEGfjvxPJAGkdYLYrtXIpZb-6ALJnzwgCLcB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Bcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qJ-uH_CXFIY/V1GdHAyc0eI/AAAAAAAAGVc/YUEGfjvxPJAGkdYLYrtXIpZb-6ALJnzwgCLcB/s320/midnight%2Bsky%2Bcover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There are secrets, there are betrayals, and there are sacrifices…</span><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Behemoth has been destroyed, and the bloodthirsty Hellions seem to have left Westraven. But Claire Abernathy’s mind is not at ease. A terrible disease plagues her sister, appearing to have been brought on the Vesper, the leader of the Hellions beyond the tear between worlds­– the Breach.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The only chance Claire has of saving Abby and stopping the Hellions once and for all is to find the machine her parents began to build before the attacks, and hope to fix it before the monsters return. To do so, she needs the help of her crew, and must ignore the secrets and rivalries between her captain and the man she saved.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because the Hellions are not the only dangers following Claire. Twisted humans and old enemies surface to stop her and destroy all she loves. While she is determined to endure the trials, a single betrayal could shatter the hope of a better world, and force Claire to make a choice that will cost her dearly…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NAPZSAd26G4/V1GdG18ytrI/AAAAAAAAGVQ/K_RjccIHc3I-tk6kANrebN0qu4zDpdOPACKgB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Bcoming%2Bsoon%2Bbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NAPZSAd26G4/V1GdG18ytrI/AAAAAAAAGVQ/K_RjccIHc3I-tk6kANrebN0qu4zDpdOPACKgB/s320/midnight%2Bsky%2Bcoming%2Bsoon%2Bbanner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-Z9IKvu8ME/V1GdG_3HpdI/AAAAAAAAGVM/SIe19I7EfjExc4u4gJyV2oyuJD-coMEMQCKgB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Babout%2Bthe%2Bauthor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="66" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N-Z9IKvu8ME/V1GdG_3HpdI/AAAAAAAAGVM/SIe19I7EfjExc4u4gJyV2oyuJD-coMEMQCKgB/s200/midnight%2Bsky%2Babout%2Bthe%2Bauthor.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xjebwUL-0as/V1GeQyb5IiI/AAAAAAAAGV4/K2GT0mMoMQQXm26tWlV5M0do1fX2JebQQCLcB/s1600/Amy%2BBraun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xjebwUL-0as/V1GeQyb5IiI/AAAAAAAAGV4/K2GT0mMoMQQXm26tWlV5M0do1fX2JebQQCLcB/s200/Amy%2BBraun.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amy is a Canadian urban fantasy and horror author. Her work revolves around monsters, magic, mythology, and mayhem. She started writing in her early teens, and never stopped. She loves building unique worlds filled with fun characters and intense action. She is the recipient of April Moon Books Editor Award for “author voice, world-building and general bad-assery,” and the One Book Two Standout Award in 2015 for her Cursed trilogy. She has been featured on various author blogs and publishing websites, and is an active member of the Writing GIAM and Weekend Writing Warrior communities. When she isn't writing, she's reading, watching movies, taking photos, gaming, and struggling with chocoholism and ice cream addiction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DKlx8ZGRNwA/V1GdHOwrLPI/AAAAAAAAGVY/PfcxiTA6WagFrjDqQ1bzHQR8FfOffL_GwCKgB/s1600/midnight%2Bsky%2Bsocial%2Bmedia%2Blinks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="66" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DKlx8ZGRNwA/V1GdHOwrLPI/AAAAAAAAGVY/PfcxiTA6WagFrjDqQ1bzHQR8FfOffL_GwCKgB/s200/midnight%2Bsky%2Bsocial%2Bmedia%2Blinks.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://literarybraun.blogspot.ca/">BLOG</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/amybraunauthor">FACEBOOK</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/amybraunauthor">TWITTER</a> | <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/103862966003258941899/posts">GOOGLE+</a> |<a href="https://www.instagram.com/amybraunauthor/"> INSTAGRAM</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8452020.Amy_Braun">GOODREADS</a> | <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Amy-Braun/e/B00MU4BBYS/">AMAZON</a> | <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/amybraunauthor/">PINTEREST</a> |<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hosted By:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ke2nS7Hz71U/V1Gdzq4wtsI/AAAAAAAAGVs/64bQ2hpXXH8CyQuTJIZZthkRkeWI1NaQQCLcB/s1600/En%2BPointe%2BAuthor%2BServices%2BBanner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ke2nS7Hz71U/V1Gdzq4wtsI/AAAAAAAAGVs/64bQ2hpXXH8CyQuTJIZZthkRkeWI1NaQQCLcB/s200/En%2BPointe%2BAuthor%2BServices%2BBanner.png" width="200" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;bookman old style&quot; , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://www.enpointeauthorservices.blogspot.com/">En Pointe Author Services</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-5856783250107256542016-06-05T11:14:00.000+12:002016-06-08T17:38:40.413+12:00Weekend Writing Warriors - #8sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" width="200" /></a></div>Because the fourth chapter&nbsp;<i>In Pain and Blood</i>&nbsp;is already on <a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon </a>and will be here next Sunday, I'll be giving Tracker's situation in the tavern a little break.<br /><br />Instead, my fellow&nbsp;<a href="http://www.wewriwa.com/">Weekend Writing Warriors</a>, I'm going back to before Dylan leaves his home, an act that demands he wins the brawl...<br /><br /><br />Blurb:&nbsp;<i>When a routine inspection goes awry, Dylan is left unleashed and alone. Afraid he'll become prey for the King's Hounds, he struggles to make his way back to the only safety he's ever known. Or is it?</i><br /><i><br /></i><i><br /></i><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Shit</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. Of course they'd turn on him, he was the late addition. If Sophie's feelings on his inclusion were an indication of how the others felt, then they saw him as the special one whom the overseers decided didn't need to fight in the bouts to prove himself. That joining so late hadn't been his idea was a moot point.</span>&nbsp;</div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">He took in his opponents' positions. One on either flank, three spread out along the fore. As long as they remained were they stood, he'd the strength to repel an attack. "</span><i style="font-family: 'Century Schoolbook', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">Well?</i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">" he roared. "Come on, then!"</span>&nbsp;</div></div></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">A bevy of fire, ice and lightning filled the air.</span></div></div></div></blockquote><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><i><br /></i><i><br /></i>If you want to read more, the chapters are currently being posted here every second Sunday of the month, apart from the steamier chapters. The first four chapters are already on Patreon, with the fourth due on this blog next Sunday.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-12187990428637029082016-05-31T23:39:00.000+12:002016-05-31T23:39:32.710+12:00Strange Realisations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>It's been an interesting couple of days... First my daughter wound up with one of her friends falling on her after offering to give her a piggyback ride, diagnosis: bruised arm.<br /><i>Then</i>, that evening, she dropped our heavy wooden chopping board on her big toe... Cue waiting hours in A&amp;E for the&nbsp;doctor, followed by a return trip the next day for an x-ray. Apparently, just bruised... You certainly wouldn't guess it from her howling.<br /><br />Needless to say, it's not been the most conducive of conditions for writing, even if I've a fair bit to write about. So, fart arsing&nbsp;about it is...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Sort of.</div><br />During <i>In Pain and Blood</i>, whenever a new person comes on the scene, someone that Dylan hasn't had prior contact with, he seems to have this odd habit of comparing his height to them. Maybe it's due to him being so much taller than those he originally associated with. I mean...<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://66.media.tumblr.com/c21443df04a16c05924eb13ad142f79f/tumblr_o818a00S0N1vo5mwto1_r1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://66.media.tumblr.com/c21443df04a16c05924eb13ad142f79f/tumblr_o818a00S0N1vo5mwto1_r1_500.jpg" height="286" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living in the land of the short. And... er...&nbsp;elfy.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />There's something I never noticed before I lined everyone up... He's surrounded by elves.<br />It's not everywhere in the tower, just his inner circle. If you look at it logically: Sulin is his roommate and Nestria's his childhood friend, whereas Launtil and Harriet came later (as Ness' friend and Hen's girl respectively) but Henrie? I'm pretty sure he started being friends with the guy when he was young.<br />Just... how did they end up being almost exclusively elves?<br /><br />Dylan, I swear, it's small wonder you're stuck with convincing certain someones that you're into your own kind, too, and really don't have some sort of sick pointy-eared fetish. Although, if memory serves, you don't do it all that well.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">(It's curious to note that I also have a similar thing going on with raptereons, in </span><i style="font-size: small;">The Rogue King Saga</i><span style="font-size: x-small;">, literally every second minor character is raptereon. Still, those buggers breed like rabbits, they </span><i style="font-size: small;">are</i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> everywhere. But... you could also turn it into a drinking game.)</span><br /><br /><br />It's sort of like the massive imbalance I have of named spellsters compared to everyone else...<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IfbfcDu-FvQ/V01n93byErI/AAAAAAAACtY/FM_Bri3MYH4zxLACHF4LrDpNdJnteMOzwCLcB/s1600/Height%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IfbfcDu-FvQ/V01n93byErI/AAAAAAAACtY/FM_Bri3MYH4zxLACHF4LrDpNdJnteMOzwCLcB/s400/Height%2Bcopy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colour-coded for Convenience</td></tr></tbody></table>And a few of those people never even show their faces, they're just names. The gall of them.<br /><br />I suppose you could justify it as most of the people Dylan meets outside the tower are strangers and they aren't likely to tell their name to the "weird guy in robes". And there are his superiors... No names as of yet. Sergeant Jerk doesn't get a name, nor does Lieutenant Arsehole. The king, the hound master, the king's alchemist... these people all need names.<br /><br />But the kingdom still seems to be full of nameless people. On one hand, it means no names to remember. On the other... I've currently a bevy of scouts, bandits, innkeepers, barmen, servants, waiters... The list goes on. Really, it does.<br /><br /><h3><b>You ever find that your cast has a strange favouring of one thing over the other? Be it gender, race, species? Who do you think should get names?</b></h3><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, and just because I can: I give you Authril in all her suspicious glory...</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbQZVSz7ibs/V01svARJ2JI/AAAAAAAACtw/IJFQyDhl4IsLVXgjFLCOk11BebmnCSKZgCLcB/s1600/Authril_small.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbQZVSz7ibs/V01svARJ2JI/AAAAAAAACtw/IJFQyDhl4IsLVXgjFLCOk11BebmnCSKZgCLcB/s320/Authril_small.png" width="309" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Done by <a href="https://evelineverburg.com/">Eveline Verburg</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-3172689318379500932016-05-25T23:30:00.000+12:002016-05-25T23:30:34.049+12:00Cover Reveal - Bottled Ink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Today I'm pleased to be a part of the cover reveal for Carol Riggs YA fantasy novel, BOTTLED, which is due to enter the published world July 7, 2016.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lSESBWb0g04/Vz5vcOeLLyI/AAAAAAAACsY/XG7KYx6H6wsQ2RDUeu4GF5O9SBfxQpqMQCLcB/s1600/Bottled453x680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lSESBWb0g04/Vz5vcOeLLyI/AAAAAAAACsY/XG7KYx6H6wsQ2RDUeu4GF5O9SBfxQpqMQCLcB/s320/Bottled453x680.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><i>At seventeen, Adeelah Naji is transformed into a genie and imprisoned in a bottle. For a thousand years, she fulfills the wishes of greedy masters—building their palaces, lining their pockets with gold, and granting them every earthly pleasure. All that sustains her is the hope of finding Karim, the boy she fell in love with as a human. When at last she finds a note from her beloved, she confirms he has access to the elixir of life and that he still searches for her.<br /><br />But someone else also hunts her. Faruq—the man who plots to use her powers to murder and seize the life forces of others—is just one step behind her. With the help of a kind master named Nathan, Adeelah continues to search for Karim while trying to evade Faruq. To complicate matters, she begins to experience growing fatigue and pain after conjuring, and finds herself struggling against an undeniable attraction to Nathan.<br /><br />As Faruq closes in, Adeelah must decide just how much she’ll risk to protect Nathan and be with Karim forever. How much power does she really have to change her future, and what is she willing to sacrifice for an eternity of love? If she makes the wrong choice, the deaths of many will be on her hands.</i><br /><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div></div><span style="font-size: large;">Add this book to your Goodreads reading list: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29103804-bottled">BOTTLED</a></span><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XMF8-IU7HnU/Vz5uvgUaWsI/AAAAAAAACsQ/hLtNsOFwtqsa5fAic-Kl1HVY-nsPYa38wCKgB/s1600/Carol%2BRiggs%2Bauthor%2Bphoto_head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XMF8-IU7HnU/Vz5uvgUaWsI/AAAAAAAACsQ/hLtNsOFwtqsa5fAic-Kl1HVY-nsPYa38wCKgB/s200/Carol%2BRiggs%2Bauthor%2Bphoto_head.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><b>Carol Riggs</b> is an author of YA fiction who lives in the beautiful green state of Oregon, USA.<br /><br />Her debut novel, THE BODY INSTITUTE, released Sept 2015 from Entangled Teen, exploring body image and identity. Her fantasy YA, BOTTLED, will release from Clean Reads on July 7, 2016, and her sci-fi YA, SAFE ZONE, will release from Entangled Teen in October 2016.<br />She enjoys reading, drawing and painting, writing conferences, walking with her husband, and enjoying music and dance of all kinds. You will usually find her in her writing cave, surrounded by her dragon collection and the characters in her head.<br /><br />Connect with Carol:&nbsp;<a href="http://www.carolriggs.com/">Website</a>&nbsp;| <a href="https://twitter.com/artzicarol">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CarolRiggsAuthor?sk=wall">Facebook</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8055261.Carol_Riggs">Goodreads</a>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-33444662465118274622016-05-24T17:28:00.000+12:002016-05-24T20:30:56.840+12:00Low Fantasy with Delusions of Epic Proportions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr4/1OAAq6eVVgcVH3qIXq-cM67h8CGO_IHAgCKgB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>Remember when I said <i>In Pain and Blood</i> had hopscotched its way over 100k?<br /><br />Yeah, I'm still banging away at it. At 112k now and, according to my outlines, I'm not quite 75% done. It's a scary thought. I'm sort of glad this is going to be self-published. On the other hand... editing... <i>*shudder*</i><br /><br />But, according to multiple sources... such a word count seems ripe for an epic work rather than... well, this amalgamation of low fantasy, romance and lgbt erotica. I mean, I knew the story was going to be big. Really big. But on an epic scale?<br /><br />Yeah... Nah...<br /><br />For me, an epic fantasy novel boils down to one thing: world-changing consequences. Most of the ones I've read usually have this in the form of a war that drags in most, if not all, of the kingdoms. You have the obvious good guys (which largely includes a chosen one, who will have trials and tribulations on both a mammoth and personal scale) against the bad guys (who generally manage to pull a massive army out of somewhere).<br /><br />I can't yet say for certain about the entire spellster series, but <i>In Pain and Blood</i>, despite Dylan's dalliance into the army, isn't going to have some world-changing consequence for anyone but himself and his companions. Things happen, certainly, but in the end, the focus of this tale is on one person who's no chosen one. More importantly, he could die and the world would be no different.<br /><br />Now I'm not saying any of this is bad. I <i>love </i>epics with chosen ones. They're my comfort read. But this... this not-so-little story is just a low fantasy with delusions of grandeur (alongside romance and sex)... Sort of like Dylan, which is fitting, I guess. ^_^<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Have you ever had a story get away from you?</b></div><ul></ul>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-62021945316568971132016-05-22T18:15:00.000+12:002016-05-22T18:15:24.688+12:00Weekend Writing Warriors - #8sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s1600/wewriwa_square_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s200/wewriwa_square_3.png" width="200" /></a></div>Here we are, my second participation as a&nbsp;<a href="http://www.wewriwa.com/">Weekend Writing Warrior</a>, where writers share an 8-10 sentence snippet of their writing.<br /><br />I thought I'd pick up from where I left off last weekend during&nbsp;<i>In Pain and Blood</i>... Where Tracker (the hound) just wanted a day at a tavern without someone picking a fight...<br /><br /><br />Blurb:&nbsp;<i>When a routine inspection goes awry, Dylan is left unleashed and alone. Afraid he'll become prey for the King's Hounds, he struggles to make his way back to the only safety he's ever known. Or is it?</i><br /><i><br /></i><i><br /></i><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Someone lunged for them, their fist raised.</span>&nbsp;</div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">The hound grabbed the offending arm before Dylan could think to retaliate. With barely a pause, the elf decked the poor sod. He hopped onto the bar counter and drew his sword, the blade glittering in the sputtering candlelight. "That's enough!" Tracker bellowed</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">.</span></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">People stilled, their attention immediately drawn to the man who'd levelled a sword at the whole room.</span></div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">"I <i>will </i>have order," he growled, "and I will have it now." He pointed his sword at the thugs attempting to skewer the hedgewitch. "You two, drop your weapons and back away from my friend."</span>&nbsp;</div></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">The men obeyed,&nbsp;<span style="font-family: &quot;Century Schoolbook&quot;,&quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">hastily tossing aside the pokers and raising their hands</span>.</span></div></blockquote><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><i><br /></i><i><br /></i>If you want to read more, the chapters are currently being posted here every second Sunday of the month, apart from the steamier chapters which will require&nbsp;<a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a>. The first three chapters are already up.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-9016085510112766872016-05-19T14:18:00.001+12:002016-05-20T12:14:15.505+12:00OOC or Just Another Layer? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr0/zCdq5Kg9y2cySZkEGh3OfVbjJ-Ac6XnZwCLcB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1tIuW7NvjQ4/Vz19l69mNBI/AAAAAAAACr0/zCdq5Kg9y2cySZkEGh3OfVbjJ-Ac6XnZwCLcB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><i>In Pain and Blood</i> has certainly been a ride and a half. But if there's one thing I can count on with this story, its surprises.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">Take my current struggle with a certain man. Throughout the whole story, he's been reluctant to even think the big L-word, much less utter it. Instead, I've these pieces of dialogue that drip cheese. Whilst I appreciate his enthusiasm, it does leave me wondering if it's a little OOC. He's meant to have gone through a lot of bad things, lost a number of people that he cared about. So maybe it's more a layer thing.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">I started thinking about this during a scene that I thought I was finished with. But no, he wanted to add a little more...<br />You see, he has a tendency to call those he's friendly with as "my dear" (and "our dear" when referring to said someone to another). And this extends to his lover, because letting them know he's falling for them would be a bad thing.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">But, recently, he's started calling his lover "darling".</div><div dir="ltr"><br />I relented at first, seeing that it starts in the last five chapters, is only in private and wouldn't happen often after the first mention (you don't really have time to get mushy when you're fighting for your life), but I <i>do </i>wonder if it's going to sound a little forced by the time I reach the epilogue. So... I don't know what to do with him right now.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>Have you ever had a character run roughshod over your ideas of them? One who's not the protagonist? I'm sure I'm not alone in this.</b></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-85753180740772079292016-05-15T17:04:00.000+12:002016-05-19T21:25:54.577+12:00Weekend Writing Warriors - #8sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s1600/wewriwa_square_3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vkzqpXERwyI/URY485Z26FI/AAAAAAAAAGI/I0c-Blj3ogE/s1600/wewriwa_square_3.png" width="200" /></a></div>So I keep trying to get back into participating in bloghops, which leads us to today and the <a href="http://www.wewriwa.com/">Weekend Writing Warriors</a>, where writers share an 8-10 sentence snippet of their writing.<br /><br />Because I seem unable to focus on anything other than&nbsp;<i>In Pain and Blood</i>... that's what these sentences will all be about...<br /><br /><br />Blurb:&nbsp;<i>When a routine inspection goes awry, Dylan is left unleashed and alone. Afraid he'll become prey for the King's Hounds, he struggles to make his way back to the only safety he's ever known. Or is it?</i><br /><i><br /></i> <i><br /></i><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><br /></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan burst through the door</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">with Tracker at his heels</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">, ready to defend his companions. He froze in the doorway, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.</span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">Tables were overturned, one broken.&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A man cowered against the bar, his face bloody. The sight he shrank from was an angered Marin brandishing what appeared to be a table leg.</span>&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The normally placid hunter had become rage incarnate, screaming at the man and trying to win herself free of Authril's grip. Dylan frantically searched for Katarina and found her crouched near the bar, her little dagger ready to fend off the two men advancing on her with pokers.</span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">"Oh, for gods' sake," Tracker muttered as he squeezed under Dylan's arm. "I can't spend one day, just </span><i style="font-family: 'Century Schoolbook', serif; text-indent: 36pt;">one</i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; text-indent: 36pt;"> day, in a tavern without someone starting a fight?"</span></blockquote><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------</div><i><br /></i> <i><br /></i> If you want to read more, the story is currently being posted here every second Sunday of the month, apart from the steamier chapters which will require <a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a>. In fact, chapter three was posted just last week.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-79622554446716525572016-05-08T20:20:00.000+12:002016-05-15T13:15:44.390+12:00In Pain and Blood - Chapter Three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XPIVz8ZfStQ/VzfNtg03gUI/AAAAAAAACrE/1yZLXMD9EvMUJtufSxzGngNRouiU4TRMACLcB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XPIVz8ZfStQ/VzfNtg03gUI/AAAAAAAACrE/1yZLXMD9EvMUJtufSxzGngNRouiU4TRMACLcB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp3.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>Well now... <a href="http://thardrandia.blogspot.com/2016/04/in-pain-and-blood-chapter-two.html" target="_blank">Chapter two</a>&nbsp;had quite the bang (pun fully intended, thank you). Now we're on to the next chapter and, like <a href="http://thardrandia.blogspot.com/2016/03/in-pain-and-blood-chapter-one.html" target="_blank">chapter one</a>,&nbsp;this chapter is a big beast. But what better way to spend mother's day?<br /><br />So, let's press onwards to the more typical tower day. If you want to read them in a little friendlier format, you can find all chapters on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wattpad.com/story/43770351-in-pain-and-blood" target="_blank">Wattpad</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://www.inkitt.com/stories/60090" target="_blank">Inkitt</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------------------------</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Chapter Three<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dawn couldn't come fast enough. He woke several times during the night, each time thinking the sun couldn't be too far below the horizon and, after waiting for what felt like eternity, was proven wrong. After the fifth such turn, he gave up on the very idea of sleep, opting to sneak down to the baths and make use of the tubs whilst almost everyone else remained in their beds.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">No one stopped him as he made his way through the tower corridors. There was no one <i>to</i> stop him. It seemed that even the guardians sought their beds after a while. A fact he wished he'd known sooner. A lot of trouble could be made when it was certain that no one watched.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">It was a strange experience, entering the bathing chamber without a hoard of others at his side. The place was lit by the single torch he dared to ignite. The ruddy light failed to reach the corners of the room, making the already cavernous space seem even bigger, but it was enough for him to see by.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He stripped and knelt by a tub, little more than a wooden half-barrel, to dip his hand into the frigid water. Heat, the prelude to a fireball, radiated from his palm. There were other ways to heat the water, and he was careful to use the more accepted methods when there were impressionable children around, but this was the quickest.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Only once steam rose from the tub did he withdraw his hand. He liked to bathe when the water was almost too hot to touch and whenever would he get another chance to cleanse himself like this if he won the competition? <i>Never</i>. That was the whole point of being leashed. The collar would strip him of the ability to use his power unsanctioned. Those in the army would hardly let him be so frivolous with his magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan set about washing his hair, lathering the black locks and rinsing them out with a carefully maintained funnel of water.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He stepped in the tub, the water lapping about his knees—it'd been several decades since the last time he could actually sit in these things without his legs scrunched up. The mute coldness of the room nipped at his extremities. He hastily scrubbed at his skin with cloth and soap, warding off the chill by subtly heating the air around him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The place was usually full of sound. The yelling and splashing of boys trying to see who could make the biggest wave out of the meagre water the half-barrels contained, whilst the older ones, often himself included, yelled just as loudly for them hurry up so they could also bathe. Alone, the gentle trickle of water running down his body and back into the tub seemed almost intrusive.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">It didn't take him long to be clean and dry, his hair helped along by the careful application of heat. He snuffed the torch and crept his way back up to his quarters.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan cracked open the door to find Sulin was awake and partially dressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The alchemist swung about, hopping on one foot, the other leg half in a boot. "Dylan? I… I thought they'd called you to compete. Where've you been so early?" The elf flopped onto his bed and finished hauling his boot on. "Or did you sneak out to make it a late one?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Wrinkling his nose, he picked up his razor, a gift from his guardian several decades back, and deftly began stropping the blade. It wouldn't do to attend the arena looking scraggy. "After being caught twice last night? Hardly." His gaze slid to the room's tiny window. The sky was still dark, but he could see a hint of light on the horizon. "I couldn't sleep, so I made use of what could be the last time I bathe here."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sulin frowned as he bent to pull on his other boot. "Certain you'll win, then?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan sat before his dresser and, after igniting the single candle with a click of his fingers, vigorously worked his shaving soap into a lather. "The overseers wouldn't let me in if they didn't believe I've a decent chance at winning." There were several spellsters who could claim a similar level of power and combat talent as he. How many of them had made it through the bouts was another matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I suppose that's true."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Besides," he mumbled as he slathered foam on his face, "the person I <i>have</i> to at least break even with at the end is the leashed one." How hard could that be when she'd have to seek sanction to fight in the first place?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They both fell silent as he started to shave, him due to necessity and Sulin due to finishing his own routine. Usually, Dylan would do multiple passes with the razor, ensuring that the parts he shaved were smooth. But his hand kept shaking and his breath would not stay even. One pass would have to suffice for today, least he do something foolish like accidentally cutting his jugular.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Still, there was one piece his pride wouldn't let be with a quick onceover. Dylan drew the candle closer, intent on the little tuft of hair beneath his bottom lip. <i>Was</i> it even? He stared at the mirror, his eyes watering at the strain of keeping them focused. It certainly looked that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I don't know why you don't just shave that thing off. Or grow a decent beard."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Satisfied with his trimming, he lowered the razor and let his eyes adjust to take in Sulin's grinning reflection. The elf didn't share this particular daily routine. He didn't need to, considering elves couldn't grow beards. They had hair everywhere else, albeit finer than their human counterparts, just not on their lower faces.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">It was a trait Dylan didn't envy. He didn't look his age now, shaving only served to make him look younger. As for growing a beard… he'd tried in his mid-twenties and gave up after seeing the scrappy thing that'd attached itself to his face. The little patch was all that remained, all he could reliably cultivate.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">With his hands steadying, Dylan returned to ridding himself of the last few pesky hairs that'd surfaced overnight. Tiny black saplings poking out of a hillside that was a rather neutral colour. To call it a lighter shade of beige was being generous. It wasn't the warm peachy tone of Nestria's skin, and held not a single evidence of freckling like Mary's bespeckled face. Although, he supposed spending more than a few moments in the garden could change the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A lot of things about his face were neutral, from his soft jaw to his wide mouth, even the colour of his hooded eyes—so dark a brown, that they verged on black—screamed normal. Only his nose, a rather bold affair, deviated from the norm.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"You know, you won't be able to preen like that in the army."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He twisted atop the stool and glared at the man over his shoulder. "What would you know about what they do in the army?" he muttered as he patted the remaining flecks of foam from his face. His stomach made vague mumblings of breakfast. He tried to ignore it. The dining hall wouldn't be ready for another half-hour or so.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I talk to the guardians from time to time. <i>And</i> the last two leashed spellsters they brought in." Sulin frowned. "You <i>shouldn't</i> compete. It's not an honour to have part of yourself accessible only at their say-so."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The stool screeched as he stood. "It's my only way out of here." He'd spent years just existing, craving to see the land up close, to walk the streets he'd only read about. He couldn't back out now just because his friend thought it was a bad idea. "Besides, the overseers practically gave me an order."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"What about your guardian's words? Have you given them any thought?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He had. They'd kept him awake for the other half of the night. Dylan shook his head. "They're just words." She wanted him to stay and had lied to the overseers to keep him here for years. Who could say if this was any different? What wouldn't she do to ensure he remained within these walls?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They made their way through the corridors, following the gentle flow of the other early risers heading towards the dining hall. Several of their female peers muttered amongst themselves as they passed by, glancing over at them only to look back and chatter on.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan frowned. There could be only one thing he knew of that'd set the women gossiping and that had to be the way the elven woman, Kaprina, turned down his advances last night. <i>Great</i>. Now if he won, everyone was going to think the overseers chose him purely to get him out of the tower. That had to be the worst way to leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria stood at the entrance to the dining hall, along with another petite elven woman. The second woman's skin was heavily tanned and freckled, her hair a sun-bleached brown and, sitting proudly upon her face, were a set of those strange wire frames. Launtil, the woman his roommate had attempted to see before they made their dash to the duelling arena.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Tillie!" The alchemist hastened to the woman's side, losing an inch of his height as his shoulders drooped. So small was the woman that even Nestria's relatively average elven stature looked tall. Sulin, being taller than both by a half-foot, towered over her. "I am so sorry about last night, you see—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Smiling, Launtil held up her hand to stall the rest of his explanation. "Nestria told me everything." The woman had been born in the empire—and into slavery, as was common with most of the elves there. Despite living here for a decade or so, she still carried a slight hint of an Udynean accent. It always brought a sort of niggling in the back of Dylan's mind to check if the woman harboured an apricot stone in her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sulin flinched. "Ness… <i>told</i> you?" His gaze flicked to the other elven woman. "Really?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Oh my, yes." Launtil pushed the wire frames further up her nose. He heard they were a gift from her owner. In the glass, her eyes grew bigger. "The entire tower's gossiping on how Mary almost blew up the arena last night and destroyed a huge chunk of <i>infitialis</i> in the process. They say she's been given a week's confinement for it."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan gnawed on his bottom lip. Solitary confinement wasn't commonly longer than a day or two. He knew the now-useless piece of <i>infitialis</i> was large, but he didn't think it worth more than a half-week of solitary. What had the overseers seen in the woman that made them think a longer sentence was necessary?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"What, specifically, does all that have to do with me?" Sulin asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Well, you're the one who warned our dear hero here—" Dylan blink as she turned her warm smile his way. "—how unstable her experiment was. I dare say that if you hadn't convinced him to return, they'd both be very much dead."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Hero?</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"> Was that what the women they'd passed been gossiping about? He wasn't a hero. He'd just heard that it could've killed his friend and acted. "Tillie, I really—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"And Ness tells me the overseers insisted you take part in today's brawl. That's going to stir up quite the hornet's nest. I'd watch out for Sophie if I were you. Poor dear actually might've had a chance this time around. She's going to completely lose her mind when she finds out."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He shrugged. He'd crossed paths with Sophie before, although it'd been some years. If she was still as bad at fighting as he recalled, then she wouldn't be much of an obstacle.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I don't know," Sulin said. "Fredrick stands an equally good chance."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Fred?" Launtil made a vain attempt to smother her tiny giggle with a hand. "That silly boy only won the bouts so he could show off to his man. He won't actually try to win."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan quietly tucked that piece of knowledge away. He'd never fought Fredrick, although he'd heard a great deal about the man's technique. Still, it would be interesting facing a new opponent.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Launtil gasped. "Oh, but listen to me blathering when you've so little time! This could be your last morning in the tower, you shouldn't be wasting it with gossip." The woman's slender fingers wrapped about Dylan's wrist. If he wasn't so used to the touch, the eerie length of elven digits would've been unsettling. Fortunately, this came with a smile. "I hope you get what you want." She turned to Sulin, her smile growing warmer. "See you at the usual table?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Sure," the alchemist mumbled. The man watched her join the throng entering the dining hall, a little sigh escaping his lips as she went out of sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria bumped her hip into Sulin's. "All right, lover boy, you can thank me later. I'll take my payment in one of those sparkly brews you concoct."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I don't know what you're talking about," Sulin replied in an overloud voice as a pair of guardians strode by. "Alchemists aren't allowed near alcohol, much less make it." He drew her closer, whispering, "Give me a week and I'll see what I can do."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Just remember." She gently pinched at his side. "Even if it falls flat between you two, you still owe me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The alchemist bent to kiss her cheek. "You're a treasure, Ness."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria giggled and lightly slapped his shoulder. "Oh, go on! Quick, before someone else tries out their charms on her."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Smiling and shaking his head, Sulin disappeared through the doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan stood just out of sight of the people already in the dining hall. "Are they really talking about last night?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Of course they are. Mary was talking up a storm at dinner yesterday, babbling on about how much she'd perfected her shield and how the overseers were going to be so impressed." Nestria crossed her arms and cocked a perfectly arched brow at him. "I'm surprised you didn't notice."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He remembered mumblings. "I was rather occupied."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I'll bet. Too busy wondering whether you could tumble Kaprina, right?" She grinned. "The answer to which is apparently a very empathetic 'no'."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan winced. "Heard about that, huh?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"About how she turned you down flat? Or the din she made in doing so?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He grimaced. "She does have quite a range. Especially in the high notes."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Again, Nestria giggled. "Come on, <i>hero</i>." She circled behind him and shoved him towards the dining hall entrance. "Let's get you fed. Can't beat the competition on an empty stomach."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">There were several dining halls around the tower; one for the guardians and servants, one for the young and those who tended to them, and then there was this one, which held every spellster past their teens. The dining hall reserved for them was the biggest and, no matter how early he got here, was always packed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan meandered through the crowd with Nestria at his side. Finding the end of the serving line took some shuffling, and a little negotiating, but they at last managed to get a portion of today's breakfast; bread and cheese, neither one the least bit mouldy, and watery ale.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Gathering their meal, they made a beeline for their usual spot near the far wall, a place they'd staked out as their own during their first years dining here. The wallward tables all sat a little higher than those in the middle, allowing them to see more of the room. They were the least draughty, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Someone was already seated there by the time they made it, always was, but the rather attractive elven man who occupied the spot wasn't usually alone. Nor was his plate so strangely full.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria plonked herself on the bench, sidling up to the man whilst Dylan took a seat opposite them. "Hey, half of a double H!" She beamed up at him, although 'up' required her to chin to touch the table. "Where's Harriet?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Henrie glanced up, the perfect bow of his lips stretched into a grim smile. There was a haunted look in those big brown eyes. A bone-deep sadness Dylan had witness take other couples.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">All at once, he knew. "They discovered you two, didn't they?" The guardians didn't take kindly to spellsters fooling around and came down harshly on those they caught.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The man laughed. It wasn't the light, tinkly sound he'd come to associate from the elf, but rather a soft, almost gasping, noise. Henrie nodded. "No. But it was so close. We thought it better if we spent a few days apart. My guardian… He's been so supportive of… Well—" He waved his hand, indicating himself. "You know."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They did, although the memories Dylan had of a time when Henrie hadn't been himself were rather dim. He nodded for the man to continue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Sometimes, I forget why he's really there. I never thought that he would try to separate us, but last night, when they almost caught us…" The words faded. He clapped a long-fingered hand over his mouth as if fearing they'd escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Oh, Hen." Nestria threw her arms around the man's slender shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"What is the harm in it? It's not like I can get her pregnant."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">I don't think that's the point</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. If it ever had been, there were rather permanent ways to ensure that <i>all</i> the men here couldn't sire children. "You need a message taken to her or anything?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Henrie shook his head. "It's just for a week or so. Another couple will catch the guardians' attention soon enough and we'll be safe again."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">But not as safe as they were to begin with. And the risks only increased with every near miss. "Just… be careful. I'd hate to think you two wound up like Ben and Jenny." The latter had once been a friend of his, but Ben had changed since his closeness to Jenny was discovered and he tolerated few men near his lover. Dylan had nothing with which to compare, had never felt that deep about someone, but it seemed that love could easily gnaw the light out of a person's soul. He didn't want to witness another pair of friends turn dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Henrie steepled his hands before him. "We won't. Harry's smarter than either of them." He tilted his head. Those brown eyes narrowed with a disturbing intensity. "What's this I hear about you competing? You can't actually want to join the army."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I do. If we manage to push Udynea back, then maybe we can convince the guardians to grant more freedoms." He pointed to where a group of silver-haired men and women sat. "Some of them are in their ninth decade and they've never been out of this tower."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"But we're safe here," Nestria said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"I know." They'd all grown up with the same tale. The people beyond the tower walls didn't want spellsters in their midst, they were frightened of what magic could do. He didn't blame them, not when they'd an all-too-real example of unleashed power bearing down on them from the western border.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"So why would you ever want to leave?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">It wasn't the first time she'd asked. Sometimes, he'd pose the same question to himself and always came back with the same answer. "The easiest way to protect a book is to seal it behind glass, but keeping it safe and unobtainable also denies its true purpose." The guardians stuffed their heads with knowledge of the outside world, the history of not only this kingdom, but all the others. What good was it if they were never allowed to set foot beyond the tower gates? He leant over the table, his gaze unwavering from the elf's face. "I'm sick of doing nothing more than just existing."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Henrie cupped his hands, pressing them to his lips. He stared at Dylan for a long time, before finally speaking. "Your talents—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"—are wasted here."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The man smirked. "That's what I was going to say. If the overseers think you're strong enough to compete, then win this thing."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria glared at their friend over her mug of ale. She slammed the drink down, sloshing it everywhere. "But then he'll be leashed, his magic useable only at the sanction of others." She turned her glare on him. "Is that what you want?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"You mean it's not that way now?" True, for the most part, he could use his gift whenever he wished, but he rarely did nowadays outside of sparring and the occasional intimate moment. For most other times, it wasn't worth the risk of being caught.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it as her gaze shifted to over his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A tiny figure collided into his back. Strong fingers grabbed his robe, tugging it. "There he is," a familiar voice said. "The hero of the day."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Jenny." He twisted on the bench, careful to ensure his hands remained steepled on the table before him so that anyone could see he wasn't initiating any contact with the woman clinging to his side. "Heard about that, have we?" Dylan scanned the crowd. Somewhere in that throng was Ben. The pair could only mingle briefly even in public places. Dylan had no intentions of getting between Jenny and her overprotective lover.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman smiled up at him. Her lips had barely parted to speak before her eyes, so eerily similar to his in both shape and colour, darted to one side.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Oh my, yes," said a less-than-welcome voice at his back. "And rumour tells of how the overseers are letting you into the brawl, despite having already chosen the top twenty from the bouts."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He risked a glance from the crowd to the rather severe-looking woman planting herself at Jenny's side. "Sophie, how nice to see you again."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman's already narrow lips grew thinner. Her face, especially the large blue eyes, had a sort of etherealness to it that suggested elven ancestry somewhere in her blood even if those flushed pink ears lacked the points. "You better not think that, just because they let you skip the bouts, you're going to win. I've entered the last five contests and—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Yet, you're still here," Henrie interjected. He'd rounded the table and now stood at Dylan's shoulder. The man leant an arm on the table. "How embarrassing it must be for you to know the overseers haven't sent their best and most powerful spellsters to stop the war."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sophie sneered at the man, then poked Dylan's chest. "Don't stand in my way. I am leaving this godsforsaken tower."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He gave her his widest, most charming, smile. Even if she didn't win, if the overseers truly thought she was of as much worth as she believed, they would've sent her ages ago. "Well, the brawl will decide that, won't it?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"That it will." Squaring her fine-boned jaw, Sophie marched off, all but dragging poor Jenny with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan leant back to watch them leave and froze. There was a heavy, and slightly soft, weight on his right shoulder. "Hen? Could you get your chest off me?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The man chuckled long and low. "I could." The elf put more of his weight on Dylan's shoulder. "But I don't think I will right now. I could do with a bit of relief; my back's killing me."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He tipped his head to the side and whispered, "You know, you're free to ask me for help if it's too much some months. I take away Ness' pain all the time." He'd been tending to his friend's monthly pains since his first successful attempt in suppressing the pangs that had her blacking out most times. Of course, she'd no longer have that sort of assistance if he managed to come through the brawl as the victor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A twinge of guilt hit him at the thought. Maybe he <i>should</i> fail.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Henrie grunted and gave him a playful shove, breaking his musing. "I'm a big boy, I can handle a little pain. Just get on with stuffing your gob already." He reached over the table and grabbed a slice of bread from his previously untouched plate. "<i>I</i> am going to place a few wagers on how fast you can take Sophie out, because you know she's already planning on taking you first."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria gave a muffled squeal. She leant across the table, knocking over the remainder of her drink. Her hand waved, holding up two fingers, whilst she'd visibly fought to swallow a mouthful of bread and cheese. Finally, she was able to speak. "Put me down for two minutes. I've got a bottle of Sulin's powerful stuff coming my way."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Are you sure you want to risk it?" Dylan asked. "Two minutes is a rather optimistic goal." He hadn't seen Sophie fight since they'd last sparred fifteen years ago. It could take far longer than a few minutes to suss out an opening in her attacks.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His old friend grinned, the candlelight playing along her teeth and making her rather blunt and altogether human-like canines seem longer and more… elven. She winked at him. "Hen's right. If it's truly what you want, then just remember: Soph always fights with fire."<o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-82366449388275555372016-05-04T21:20:00.000+12:002016-05-04T23:25:44.050+12:00#IWSG On My Own<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iajjF4oSGoU/VrEuqoXtbdI/AAAAAAAAPEc/KRM31MQa9gY/s320/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iajjF4oSGoU/VrEuqoXtbdI/AAAAAAAAPEc/KRM31MQa9gY/s200/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>It's the first Wednesday of the month ~ the day when members of the <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/">Insecure Writer's Support Group</a> share their writing struggles and offer their encouragement and support to other members.</div><br />To sign up as a member of the IWSG, click <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html">here</a>.<br /><br />The wonderful co-hosts who are helping&nbsp;<a href="http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.ca/">Alex J. Cavanaugh</a>,&nbsp;IWSG's founder, are...<br /><a href="http://authorstephentremp.blogspot.com/">Stephen Tremp</a>, <a href="http://mjfifield.blogspot.com/">M.J. Fifield</a>, <a href="http://bish-randomthoughts.blogspot.com/">Bish Denham</a>, <a href="http://susangourley.blogspot.com/">Susan Gourley</a>, <a href="http://stephie5741.blogspot.com/">Stephanie Faris</a>,&nbsp;<a href="http://selkiegrey4.blogspot.com/">Fundy Blue</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://lonitownsend.com/">Loni Townsend</a>. Do pop by their sites.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br />A few weeks back, I set something into motion that, come July, will mean something rather big shall happen...<br /><br />I will no longer be a hybrid author.<br /><br />Instead, everything I do will&nbsp;be a solely self-published proceeding. Asking for the rights back was a decision I agonised over and one that still gives me niggly butterflies of doubt&nbsp;on dark days. Overall, I think I took the right steps. I won't go into details of why it all happened, but suffice to say that I was hit pretty hard mentally and... Well, I hadn't had a full-blown panic attack in years, but finding myself on the end of one was almost enough to tip me over. Even thinking about it still tightens my chest, so I won't dwell too long. All I can do right now is wait and hope this has been the right choice.<br /><br />Am I mildly terrified I'm setting myself up to fall on my face? Yeah, but casual anxiety has long since become a current state of being for me. But on the bright side, what with this whole ordeal, the house hasn't been this dust-free in years.Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-41195835827549964752016-05-01T13:46:00.000+12:002016-05-02T07:04:13.970+12:00#CampNaNoWriMo Done!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/08/38/a5/0838a5004562e719a14a65443e48d529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/08/38/a5/0838a5004562e719a14a65443e48d529.jpg" width="200"></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">I did it! Didn't think I would at first and, yes, it was but 15,000 words, but I did it! Whee!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br></div><div style="text-align: left;">And just in time for me to have a few moments to give chapter three of <i>In Pain and Blood</i> a final onceover before it comes up on <a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a>&nbsp;later today.</div><br><br><b>So how has your writing been? Did you pass any milestones?</b>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-89066839884528432752016-04-17T15:22:00.000+12:002016-04-17T18:30:55.884+12:00In Pain and Blood - Reaching the 100k MarkWell, then. It finally happened. In Pain and Blood has officially skipped its merry way over the 100k mark, and it's not slowing down. If anything, it's picking up speed and throwing in some extra chapters. I can't believe I ever wondered how I'd manage to produce content for 36 chapters, now we're pushing 41 and it taunts me with the possibly of needing even more.<br /><br />Oh, and those steamy erotic scenes keep popping up. I mean, jeez, I know you like to get whilst the getting's good, Track, but I'm pretty sure you don't need to try jumping him <i>every </i>time you're alone.<br /><br />But yeah, to date, there are 41 Chapters (with only nine of them complete, the sods) and in them are...<br /><br /><ul><li>10 Sex Scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(So, if you're not signed up to my <a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a>, that's about a quarter of the book you're not reading until it's published years down the line)</span></li><li>7 Major Locations <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Tower, Army camp,&nbsp;Toptower, Oldmarsh, Whitemeadow, Riverton and&nbsp;Wintervale... Hoy...)</span></li><li>7 Fight scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Because, clearly, I hate myself)</span></li><li>4 Hot 'n' heavy scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Because Tracker is a horny son of a female dog)</span></li><li>4 Tavern scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Sometimes, good old campfire fare isn't good enough)</span></li><li>3 Inns&nbsp;<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>The Drunken Pilgrim</i>, <i>Wench and Cooper</i>, and&nbsp;<i>The Sheppard's Axe</i>)</span></li><li>3 Bathing scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(All of them totally legit. They travel and fight. Ergo, they get filthy)</span></li><li>3 Healing scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Did I mention they fight?)</span></li><li>3 Weapon-training scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Because they fight)</span></li><li>2 Cavern/Tunnel scenes <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Don't ask)</span></li><li>1 Brothel <span style="font-size: x-small;">(<i>The Gilded Lily</i> ^_^)</span></li><li>1 Swimming scene <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Because how else would they reach the cavern?)</span></li><li>1 Stitching dude up scene <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Different from healing scenes, because reasons)</span></li><li>1 Other scene I can't divulge, because spoilers</li></ul>Obviously, some of those scenes are pulling double duty. Otherwise, the numbers just don't add up.<br /><br />Each chapter is hitting about a&nbsp;rough 4500-word average (those sex scenes should be bloody outliers, but really I've a frigging half-written final battle scene that's over 5k.<i> Half. Written.</i>). Even though I factored a loose 3000/3500-word goal per chapter... I'm looking down the barrel&nbsp;of a possible 160k novel. Considering that all my editing runs in the past three novels have only given me bigger novels, the final story is going to be a beast no matter what I do...<br /><br />Welp, I hope you all like sprawling fantasy works with a lgbt theme and lots of erotic romance, because that's what you're gonna get.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">In closing, here's a picture of my two dorks snogging. Just because...</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://36.media.tumblr.com/f094bd11689c9f6d2cf4777761e1b8cd/tumblr_o5iw25R1kZ1r8kr8ho1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://36.media.tumblr.com/f094bd11689c9f6d2cf4777761e1b8cd/tumblr_o5iw25R1kZ1r8kr8ho1_500.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dylan and Tracker done by <a href="https://evelineverburg.com/">Eveline Verburg</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-61816429859611805322016-04-15T22:36:00.001+12:002016-04-17T12:46:02.715+12:00Elves in the Spellster SeriesFor a long time, I railed against the inclusion of elves in any of my fantasy works. The worlds I created were big and weird enough without a them jumping into the mix. Not that I don't love my elven characters, because if you tell me there's an elf in the story, I'm very likely to get my nose out of whatever book I'm currently reading to check it out (more so with dragons).<br /><br />I guess it was inevitable that they'd appear, but I still wanted to avoid the long-living godlike beings as it really doesn't fit in with my worldbuilding. Instead, I got... Well, it's more fun for me if I let my hedgewitch, Katarina, explain how she sees elves stacking up against humans...<br /><br /><br /><div style="border-bottom: solid #4F81BD 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-themecolor: accent1; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 4.0pt 0cm;"><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Elves in the Spellster Series</span></h2></div><h4><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif;">— A brief dissertation by Madam Hedgewitch Katarina of&nbsp;Dvärghem<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></h4><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Little is known of the land from which elves originated, even the natives of Heimat, people who are far removed from the Udynea Empire and their toxic environment, and those who still live according to the nomadic practice of their wandering forebears have fragments of their past. Beyond these clans, there is little concern expressed with this cultural gap in their heritage. This&nbsp;disinterest&nbsp;is almost unanimous, but admitted only if pressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Much of the tangible facts can be found in the Udynea Empire and their old slave records. These state that the elves arrived en masse in vast ships—vessels that, reputedly, carried several thousand each and were sadly dismantled on site for their wood—on the shores of what is now Obuzan. Of course, this was some centuries back, when the current empire was but a third of its size. If the question of how these people managed the journey or why was ever asked of them, then such information is lost save a few scattered clans speaking of a great terror.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Having landed on land that freely exploits its own, much of the elven population wound up in slavery. Those who escaped, whether through the initial catch or later, fled to form Heimat. Those who live there are, to this day, suspicious to overtures made by outsiders, human or dwarf. They trade via the nomadic clans who wander between this elven country and the place of their original berth, wildly skirting the Udynean border in the process.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The elven language did manage to survive the initial meeting of humans, although it has suffered greatly. Beyond the population of Heimat and most of the nomadic clans, finding an elf capable of understanding the tongue of their ancestors is incredibly rare.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Whilst relations between human and elf are more common than between elf and dwarf—this being rather due to the spread of both races across the continent than any avoidance by either party—there is a common human bias towards elves. Few gain notable status and are far likelier to be the target of bigotry. The degree of this alienation is, largely, dependent on the country. Where one elf might suffer harsh looks and the occasional slur, others will be forced into lives as beggars, if not taken and sold.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It can also be gleaned from the old slave records that the diverse colouration and features of current elves came not from the addition of human blood, but were already in effect. This leads to the possibility of a continent not unlike this one that hosts only elves. But, seeing there have been no new sightings of other gigantic vessels, it must be presumed that, if the original elves were fleeing, whatever they fled from has not given chase.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of the current elves, they have several peculiarities not seen amongst either dwarf or human. Still, as if one were to speak of humans or fellow dwarves, the point must be made that these generalities do not encompass every individual. There can, naturally, be discrepancies, more so with the addition of human (and the occasional bit of dwarven) blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is, sadly, to be expected as dilution was an unfortunate fact of a relatively low starting population and the old Udynean trend of captured elves becoming pleasure slaves—a trend that disturbing rumours suggest&nbsp;is&nbsp;<i>not&nbsp;</i>dead. Given current levels of elven/human interaction, the likelihood of a 100% full-blooded elf is slim. Even so, the human population vastly outnumbers them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If one is curious, and quite possibly suicidal, observation of the canine definition is a useful tool to denote dilution of blood. The more prominent an elf’s canines are, the more elven an elf’s blood is. Speculation leans towards the supposition that their ancestors subsisted on a meat-heavy diet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their rate of healing is twice that of a human's and somewhere between a third and a quarter faster than dwarven abilities. This may be linked to a faster metabolism and is, perhaps, in direct correlation to their natural leanness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A male elf that claims either half or more of elven ancestry is not capable of growing facial hair. In fact, hair on all elves is largely lighter than human or dwarven counterparts of similar age. Past scholars have given several theories on why; the wider accepted lean being that their ancestral climate negated the necessity of such dense hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their bodies put out more heat than even the average dwarven male, this is despite being shorter than either sentient counterpart (sometimes by several feet). They likewise display a dexterity incomparable to a human of similar size. Through observation of trained warriors, it can be determined that muscle can be bulked via an intense regimen, just not to the extent of a human in the same position. However, overall stamina doesn't seem to be vastly different to other races.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their sight is better than that of a human's, almost on par with dwarven vision in distance and tracking. It is not certain if their night vision is superior or whether they use their enhanced hearing to pinpoint attacks. A lesser quality is their long fingers, wherein each digit is between half to a full inch longer than those of the average human.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The ears are, of course, a rather large defining quality to an elf and often become the target of the small-minded. Observational recording suggests&nbsp;they are&nbsp;twice the length of a human’s from lobe to tip and, whilst they exhibit some flexibility, are somewhat just as rigid as human and dwarven ears. Any elven ear that is recorded as suggesting movement is likely more due to abuse of the cartilage than a natural ability.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Slicing or breaking the ear has become an all too commonly used assault in Udynea. When such an attack happens, the ear is often not completely removed, but rather just the pointed half.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Their ears have long been rumoured as extremely sensitive to the touch and most elves will allow only their partners this privilege. Whilst the elf's reaction to such a touch is not </span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">instant arousal</span><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> as in the stipulated rumours, testing done by a willing couple rather suggests that it encourages such thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is puzzling then, why some elves choose to pierce such a sensitive organ. One much wonders if this wilful modification alters the ear's sensation, although whether to negative or positive respects is uncertain. More research is required on this topic to fully understand this conduct.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like humans, spellsters and their nullifying counterparts are present in all elven communities. Early records of multiple elves being subjected to <i>infitialis</i> leashing suggests the power a natural occurrence rather than to the introduction of human blood. There appears to be a relatively equal ratio of magically sensitive to the non-magically inclined as displayed in the overall human populous. Ratios for the nulled ones are less certain, but speculation would deem it as less owing to new understandings of circumstances leading to a nulled one's birth.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They possess, of all things, the ability to purr. Not the occasional rumbling of a pleased dwarf or human, but a consistent thrum much similar to that of a domesticated feline. Unlike cats, who purr in all manner of situations, this phenomenon only occurs if the elf in question is content. Queries have lead to this behaviour being common knowledge amongst elf-dense populations.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 36pt;">Currently, only two opportunities to observe such behaviour have presented themselves (although it is noted that the human half of the above couple reports his husband often purrs in his sleep, such an observation has not been officially recorded). Suggestion of more extensive research in this factor has been reported to the coven.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And there you have it, all I know about my elves. To top it off, this started out as a list of traits that morphed itself into this little piece.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Is there any particular species (of any speculative genre, doesn't have to be fantasy) that you've a certain weakness for?</i></b></div></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-11557395145440528192016-04-10T22:31:00.000+12:002016-05-15T13:15:04.647+12:00In Pain and Blood - Chapter Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51P1k7gXjJs/VzfNjqyel4I/AAAAAAAACrA/QjxsJ0eCnTU6kBDV4GPtMNcsNuYlvw1oQCLcB/s1600/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51P1k7gXjJs/VzfNjqyel4I/AAAAAAAACrA/QjxsJ0eCnTU6kBDV4GPtMNcsNuYlvw1oQCLcB/s200/In%2BPain%2Band%2BBlood%2Bchp2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>Whoo! So <a href="http://thardrandia.blogspot.com/2016/03/in-pain-and-blood-chapter-one.html" target="_blank">chapter one</a> started off as a big beast. You can image how I beat Nanowrimo with this monster and yet, was still only halfway through. As of writing this, I've not write hit the 70% mark. Dylan, why are you insisting on monopolising so much of my time like this?<br /><br />Anyway, let's press onwards to chapter two. If you don't want to read them here, you can find all the chapters on&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wattpad.com/story/43770351-in-pain-and-blood" target="_blank">Wattpad</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://www.inkitt.com/stories/60090" target="_blank">Inkitt</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">--------------------------------------------</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Chapter Two<o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They raced through the hallways, trailing cries in their wake. First it was merely the startled yelps of the occasional servant as they ran through the upper levels and descended the stairs. Then, as they reached the bottom level and neared the duelling arena, they barrelled into the command to halt from the guardians patrolling the area.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sulin slowed, half heeding their calls. He let the elf fall behind. If there was anything life-threatening going on in the arena, the alchemist's magic wouldn't be strong enough to shield him from it, let alone help anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They'd be punished for this, being out of their quarters at night, doubly so for disobeying direct orders. At least a week's worth of denying them of their meals, they might even get solitary confinement. Yet, if his defiance of their cries saved Nestria and Mary, he'd weather whatever sentence they gave him. <i>Please, don't let me be too late</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He turned down the long corridor leading to the arena. The charge of lightning—an attack they both favoured—permeated the air. He slowed, scanning the hallway for any sign of guardian presence. Surely, if something was wrong, then there'd be people trying to right it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The stench of scorched air grew stronger as he neared the doors.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan focused and a small film of purple shimmered to life around him. Bracing himself, he flung open the doors. Nestria stood in the middle of the arena, the comatose form of Mary at her feet. Lightning flashed around them, forking as they smashed into the wide, shimmering barrier encircling them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The attack came from the alchemist's experimental <i>infitialis</i> shield. It sparked and crackled, each flare pulsing through the room until it connected with something. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He ran for the pair, the barrier around him thrumming with each hit. He dared to glance up. The big shield that protected spectators, which currently consisted of just the overseers, appeared to be holding up better than their personal barriers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Dylan!" Nestria screamed as he neared. "What are you doing?" Lightning stabbed her shield with a dreadful crackling sizzle. She winced, then squared her shoulders. "Get out of here! I can handle this."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">No, you can't</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">. His dear friend held her ground, for now. She wouldn't for much longer. Not against this barrage. They needed to leave the arena's confines, let the shield that encompassed the area contain the blast once the metal finally shattered. And it <i>would</i>. If there was one thing the <i>infitialis</i>&nbsp;metal did well, it was exploding.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He pulled the elf's slight form tight against him and focused on widening his shield, pushing the narrow oval out until it matched Nestria's range. The effort caused a dull ache in the base of his skull. Manageable, for now. Lightning crackled around them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">What if one of us fails?</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"> No, he couldn't think of failure. Combined, their power should be enough to block out any force. Dylan bent to the alchemist's inert form and wrapped her arm behind his neck. "We have to get out of here."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria nodded, flinching as another bolt struck. Only went she moved to help him did he notice how she favoured one side. And a multitude of scorch marks adorned both women's robes. His friend was fast enough defending herself in sparring, but nothing was faster than lightning.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">With them supporting Mary on either side, they hobbled towards the entrance. The doors seemed a lot further off than they'd been a moment ago. Still, they struggled onwards, fighting to keep the alchemist from dragging—a feat that would've been a lot easier had they both been stronger and of similar height.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">At their backs, the crackling grew louder, more erratic. He dared a hasty look over Nestria's head to where Mary had lashed the shield to the old targeting blocks. The metal disc was fracturing. Each crack poured more power behind the lightning. Blue and purple forks of it flashed around them, glancing off their shields.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He flinched at one particularly heavy blow. His gaze fastened onto their exit. The closed, scorched doors seemed to be getting no closer. They had to make it out in time. He wasn't certain if their shields would hold up against the final blast.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A bolt landed a direct hit on their flank.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria cried out. Her shield wavered. Flickering pulses of purple light danced around them as she fought to keep the barrier up. A second blow and her defence fell.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Whiteness glanced across Dylan's vision. The suddenness of taking the blast's whole force was like a punch to the jaw. He staggered, blind for several steps. The unconscious woman all but slipped from his hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Shaking his head, he put all his effort on maintaining the shield. Like claws squeezing his skull, the dull ache pinched his brain. No matter how he tried, he couldn't stretch the shield to encompass them all and continue to maintain its strength. Pushing any harder only made his head feel as though it were trapped in a vice.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Instead, he turned to face the cracking disc of metal and focused on picturing a wall. It formed between them and the unstable experiment, far stronger than his previous attempts. The lightning smashed against this new barrier, fracturing along the surface. But the wall held.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"What are you doing?" Nestria screamed. She hunkered behind him, dragging Mary's inert form down with her. A thin glow surrounded her, flickering and failing as she sought to shield them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He crouched next to the women and wrapped his arms around Nestria's slim shoulders. "Trust me." If he could press the fracturing, twisting and glowing mass that was the metal disc up against the arena's shield and hold it there, then perhaps he could limit the damage the experiment did when it exploded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His shield edged closer. Forks of lightning climbed the surface, the tips curled and cracked at the top. Dylan kept going. The outward face of his shield brushed the curve of <i>infitialis</i>. Dylan held his breath. The main property of the metal was its ability to negate magic, if his barrier dropped now…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The gossamer shield between them and death bulged where contact was made, sending a visible shudder shimmering across the surface. He flinched, his eyes unable to stay open. They were going to die. The barrier would fall and they'd be electrocuted well before being blown up was a problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">After a few seconds had passed without incidence, he dared to peek.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The shield held. It shuddered with each bolt spewing from the metal disc, but the barrier remained very much intact. He just had to keep it that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Slowly, he pushed the shield closer to the arena's edge. The target block grated along the dusty ground. Each jump and tilt sent a bigger flare from the disc's core. Thunder, originally a low rumble, boomed around the domed space.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">At last, there was no more room for the block to go. Dylan altered his focus, moulding his flat barrier to sit seamlessly against the arena's shield. What remained of the alchemist's experiment twisted further, warping under the pressure of being hemmed on both sides.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He gritted his teeth and concentrated on keeping the wall in place. If he let his shield drop, even for a heartbeat, they'd be dead before the next pulse. "Ness!" he groaned, flailing his hand behind him in search of the woman. Warm, familiar fingers wrapped around his wrist. They were coated in something, he didn't dare look away from the barrier to find out what. "Can you…" He puffed, trying to find the air to speak. Words should not be this hard. "…carry Mary… on your own?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"She's too heavy."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Then…" The room blurred. Warm dampness flooded his eyes. He blinked it away. <i>I have to focus</i>. He might be able to hold on long enough, but if not… "Leave us."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria tightened her grip on his arm. "Dylan…"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He dared the briefest of glances at her face, felt his barrier wavering and snapped his attention back. Behind his shield, the alchemist's experiment glowed with an intense blue light. "Go." There was no point in letting her die alongside him if he failed to contain the blast.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">If Nestria gave an answer, he didn't hear it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The pause between each pulse of lightning grew closer, hitting his barrier with a rapid staccato rhythm. He hunched down as far as he could, drawn between covering his eyes from the glare and knowing he had to keep watching. Any second now and the metal would—<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The world went white and fuzzy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">A muffled boom echoed through the arena. His barrier bulged under the pressure. He pushed back, trying to control a barrier he could no longer see even as he felt it ripping apart. The strain was agony. The room spun. Already, he was sweating from every pore. Any moment now and his brain was going to leak out his ears. <i>Can't stop</i>. It only had hold for a little longer…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His shield shattered, unleashing the full force behind the blast. Stunned by the sudden absence of pressure, Dylan blindly threw himself to the floor. Bodies huddled against him. He flung his arms around Nestria and the inert Mary, pulling them close, shielding them in the only way left to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Only when the blast's last echoes had finished circling the arena did he dare to lift his head. <i>We're alive.</i> The thought came sluggishly and a little on the tentative side. <i>Were</i> they alive? The compacted dirt under his chin certainly felt like that of the arena floor, but who was to say the afterlife didn't start out this way?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He rolled off the women to sprawl on the ground. Everything had a purple glare to it and his chin stung like he'd scraped it back to the bone. Already, he felt the familiar tug of his power working on fixing the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The smoky aroma of burnt linen filled his nose. Summoning what energy he could, Dylan patted himself down. There were a few singed spots on the skirts of his robe. He was whole, in no danger and most definitely alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The arena's main entrance opened. The customary bang of the doors muffled and tame compared to the previous blast that had assaulted his ears. Dylan rolled his head to the side and blurrily watched the blazing outline of two figures running across the room. One of them wore the flapping robes of a spellster and was most likely Sulin, the other…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He blinked, his vision slowly restoring, and took in the woman wearing the dark grey leather tunic of the guardians. <i>Tricia?</i> He sat up, his body strongly objecting to the sudden movement. How had she gotten here so soon? Had she been one of the voices calling for them to stop? <i>I'm going to be in so much trouble</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sulin blew past them with barely a glance in their direction, making straight for the twisted pieces of the shield. Dylan watched with a sort of distant fascination. The pieces lifted, slowly as the alchemist manipulated the meagre talent he possessed, so the elf could examine the smoking remains without direct contact.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Dylan?" Tricia collapsed beside him. "What did you think were you doing, child?" She grabbed his head turning it this way and that, examining him for injuries until she was satisfied there weren't any. "You could've been killed," she whispered, drawing him into a tight hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He squirmed. Such a display of concern only made it worse. What punishment was she concocting? Would she have him escorted around the tower like some of the other spellsters? For how long? He shrank from his guardian's grasp. "I'm all right, Mother."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Tricia sat back, a rare proud smile curving her lips. "You <i>are</i>." She fussed with his hair, tucking several dark strands behind his ears. "My brave boy."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Embarrassment gently warmed his cheeks. He'd been stupid. His gaze slid back to where Sulin was still crouched over the remains of the <i>infitialis</i> shield. The elf was shaking his head, but there seemed to be a distinct lack of concern on the alchemist's face. That meant the danger was over. From the shield, at least.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Beside them, Nestria groaned. She sat up, her movements oddly stiff.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He crawled across the space between them. "Ness?" Had that final blast struck her as hard as it'd done him? "Are you all right?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She rubbed at her head. "Just a bump. I've had worse falling out of bed."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His gaze slid to Nestria's robe. A large, dark red patch had formed on the elf's left sleeve. Higher still, the fabric was a charred mess. "Bit more than a bump."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Those big brown eyes lowered to where he held her arm. She gasped as he peeled back the blood-soaked sleeve. Blood ran down her arm, trickling from raw peeling skin. Dylan tracked the burnt flesh up her arm until it culminated in a hideous charred and weeping wound near her shoulder. More of the rawness above suggested further injury beneath her robe.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"First bolt must've struck before I got a shield up. Funny, I don't even remember it." Nestria fingered her forearm, hissing only when she made contact with the blistering skin of her wrist. "It barely hurts."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Keeping his grip light, he focused on healing her by teasing out the body's natural ability to heal and encouraging it to quicken. The blood stopped flowing. The peeled skin flaked away and the rawness of the flesh underneath faded, leaving behind a strangely delicate branch-like pattern of pink scars. Even these had begun to fade into a silver-purple by the time his power halted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Nestria beamed up at him. "Thanks."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He shrugged. It wasn't the first time he'd healed her, it likely wouldn't be the last.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"We must get this poor girl to the infirmary," Tricia said, drawing him back to the unconscious alchemist lying beside him. Despite her singed robes, she didn't appear to have suffered any serious injuries. Just a few scrapes she'd likely gotten when she fell. "Sulin. Help me carry her." She beckoned the elf away from the pieces of <i>infitialis</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Sulin obeyed, eyeing the remains with every step.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His guardian huffed. "If it was going to explode again, it would've done so by now."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan stood, staggering slightly as his legs wobbled. "If he wants to examine the shield further, I can help with Mary."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Tricia snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, child. You haven't the strength at the best of times." She bent to hoist Mary off the ground, waiting for the alchemist to secure the woman's other side. "Nestria, be a dear and tell the healers on duty that they've a patient."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Yes, Madam Guardian." Nestria curtsied and, hitching up her skirts, raced out of the arena, whilst the others slowly made their way to the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan trailed after them. He could've gone back to his quarters. Unlike Mary and Nestria, his healer training had left him with the innate ability to mend any injuries without him having to think on it. All he truly needed was time to recuperate.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Noises followed in their wake as they neared the infirmary. Soft, almost nonexistent, even to ears listening for the sounds; the careful opening of doors and hushed conversation. Those closest to the duelling arena would've heard the shield explode and would be curious to know what caused it. Then again, when he considered how rumour flowed through the tower's heart like water rushing downstream, they likely already knew of Mary's experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Come tomorrow morning, everyone would know the woman had failed. Mary would be punished. The overseers were very particular when it came to wasting even a shard of <i>infitialis</i>. Her guardian would likely share a measure of that punishment as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Thanks to Nestria, the healers on duty were waiting at the door by the time they arrived. They hustled Mary to a bed, leaving the rest of them to aimlessly linger near the entrance.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"She'll be all right, won't she?" Nestria asked the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Of course, she will," Dylan said. Those few who chose to practice their craft in the infirmary were the best healers the tower had. He once thought of joining them—had even trained enough to gain apprenticeship to one of the few masters—until the call of the army started in his blood. "She'll be wide awake by morning and ready to improve her work in no time."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Gods," Sulin groaned. "I hope not. That woman's experiments always cost us a hefty chunk of dog metal."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan frowned. It was one thing to lose a fragment here and there during a young alchemist's training, but a piece as big as the shield? "It can't be salvaged?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The alchemist shook his head. "Not after a blast like that. Reusing it will only risk having whatever it's used for blow up again. Can you imagine if someone crafted a collar from it?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">He'd never seen one of the collars they used, although he did know they were made only by the best alchemists. Nor had he ever heard of one exploding, but if the metal was unstable… "Be rather like wrapping a viper around one's neck."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Which is why I plan to insist the metal is disposed of," Tricia said. "I also think it's time you three were back in your quarters. The healers don't need you lot wandering about like abandoned chicks. Come on." She flapped her hands at them as if they children. "Off to bed with you."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">They turned to obey only to find the overseers standing in the infirmary's doorway. Not a one appeared the slightest bit harmed. They looked even less amused. Behind them stood Mary's guardian. Even with much of her face lost in the shadows, the woman's focus on her unconscious charge was palpable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Am I correct that this your charge, Guardian?" one of the men asked Tricia, indicating Dylan.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">His guardian stiffened at the address. "Yes, sir."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"We witnessed quite the display this evening," one of the women said. "It would seem your evaluation of his strength is incorrect. One must wonder if you've been paying your charge the proper amount of attention due to him. His years do not grant him full absolution from your watch."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She bowed. "Yes, madam. I am aware he has displayed a somewhat unusual burst of… That is to say, I have of course been keeping a close eye on his talents. I'm certain you recall how he is most useful in translating the ancient dwarven texts. The hedgewitches are—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Enough," a second man snapped. "However pleasing his skill may be to these so-called <i>dwarven</i> scholars, it does not supersede compliance with the king's will. If it is discovered you have been deliberately concealing his potential…" The man left his threat trickle off to create its own little punishments.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Again, Dylan's guardian bowed. "Understood, sir."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">The woman beside the man cleared her throat. "You will inform your charge that, in light of recent events, he will compete alongside the other candidates for the honour of joining the army. You are to make it clear he is expected to report in the arena at midday tomorrow. Refusal will grant him a month's solitary."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan's jaw dropped. Compete? <i>Him?</i> They were actually going to let him compete?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Tricia's final bow was fawningly low. "Of course, madam. I will ensure he is there."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"See that you do." As one, the overseers turned and left.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Mary's guardian dove through the doorway the instant she'd a chance. She hastened to her charge's side, demanding answers from the healers before they could give a proper diagnosis.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Tricia sank to the floor the moment the overseers were out of sight. "What have you done, child?" she whispered. "Did it not occur to you that the overseers were watching your every move?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Dylan wet his lips. He'd not given a passing thought as to how the overseers would see this. But he was now allowed to compete, to have a chance to prove he was good enough to fight in the army. Just like he wanted. "I—"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">"Have I not told you enough times that the world isn't safe? Why… why would you do this to me? Was I not good to you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Guilt gnawed at his gut. He'd heard of guardians who were harsh with their charges, sometimes brutally so. But whilst she could be strict, Tricia had never laid a hand on him. "Mother…"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">She stood, seemingly composed once more. Yet she wouldn't look at him, instead choosing to brush her tunic clean. "Don't win. If you value your life, you will fail tomorrow's competition. Have them think this was a fluke and let another be leashed."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Fail?</span></i><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"> His pride wouldn't allow that. "You've always taught me to be the best I can be. If I'm competing tomorrow, then I <i>will</i> win."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;">Tricia lifted her head. "Yes." There was pride on her face, but it was small and overshadowed by a haunting sadness. "Then you will die."<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;">--------------------------------------------</div><div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="font-family: &quot;century schoolbook&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;;"></span><br /></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman';"></div><div style="text-align: start; text-indent: 48px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: 'times new roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="text-align: left;">Whew. It took so long to get this sorted out. I suck so badly at just rattling out action scenes. They always need several passes before they're vaguely readable.</span></div></div>Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-87287606402243745662016-04-02T10:36:00.000+13:002016-04-02T10:36:01.947+13:00Down the Path of Shadows TrailerIf you've signed on to my&nbsp;<a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a>&nbsp;account you've likely already seen this, but for those who haven't... this is my trailer for&nbsp;<i>Down the Path of Shadows</i>...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236.25" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/H5k_s-aZiow" width="420"></iframe><br /></div><br />Now tomorrow is when the second chapter for In Pain and Blood appears on Patreon and it sure was a <i>blast</i> to write. *ahem* You'll get the pun tomorrow, I'm sure. It'll be right here, on this blog, one week from now. Until then...Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8520160263820356140.post-59250271130637360842016-03-27T12:00:00.001+13:002016-03-27T12:00:32.106+13:00Down the Path of Shadows Cover<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you've signed on to my <a href="https://www.patreon.com/aldreaalien">Patreon</a> account you've likely already seen this, and the accompanying trailer (which will appear here next week), but for those who haven't... I now have a cover for <i>Down the Path of Shadows</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWXAVgGweHo/VvYNFK7vbtI/AAAAAAAACjo/vCWdYjBLmzIDGlzM6ywlNqSXdzel_f-pw/s1600/DtPoS%2Bsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWXAVgGweHo/VvYNFK7vbtI/AAAAAAAACjo/vCWdYjBLmzIDGlzM6ywlNqSXdzel_f-pw/s320/DtPoS%2Bsmall.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So glowy</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And thus concludes the last of the covers&nbsp;in the Spellster Series. Leaving me with a nice little array...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aCx76ZIMpXU/VvYLfnkGr3I/AAAAAAAACjk/MpvnVOf4z0kxdT2KMz5MMpBgGxTaKApDQ/s1600/banner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aCx76ZIMpXU/VvYLfnkGr3I/AAAAAAAACjk/MpvnVOf4z0kxdT2KMz5MMpBgGxTaKApDQ/s400/banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Aldrea Alienhttps://plus.google.com/117560510784202370186noreply@blogger.com2